


Storm in the Loving Soul

by The Neon Gang (clgfanfic)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:24:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/The%20Neon%20Gang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team sends Vin on a little R&R, but things turn deadly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm in the Loving Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Seven Card Stud #9. This is the slash version of the M7 story "Storm in the Soul." This was originally written as a War of the Worlds story, but re-written into the M7 ATF world.

           _Chris and Ezra were pinned down, a sniper well-positioned and waiting for them to line up so he could take them both out with one shot…_

_He could see Standish was bleeding…  Buck, Josiah, and JD were moving in, taking fire from some other unseen shooter… and he kept trying to find a shot, a way to stop the snipers before it was too late, but there was no opening…_

_And he wasn't going to find one in time, either._

_But then he was… someplace else…_

_Someplace familiar…_

_Someplace frightening…_

_Gunfire echoed around him, shattered occasionally by a scream from the wounded.  It was ugly, terrifying._

_His hands were shaking as he peered through his scope, trying to find the hidden sniper who had his unit pinned down, but he couldn't see him.  Johnson, his spotter, crouching next to him, screamed._

_He couldn't help it, he looked.  The man's chest had been blown wide open, dark eyes still open, staring at him, begging him to change what had just happened, but he couldn't change it.  He couldn't change a damn thing._

_"Damn it," he hissed, eyes stinging as he tried desperately to find the sniper as another member of his unit went down._

_But as he looked around at the men he had called his brothers, it wasn't his Ranger unit, it was Chris and Ezra… Josiah and Nathan… Buck and JD…_

_"No!" he cried, his blood singing for revenge.  But the enemy snipers remained invisible, and the ghosts of the dead men lying near him were starting to close in, determined to take him down with them…_

_But, before they could reach him, he bolted, running as hard and as fast as he could into the open, hoping the enemy snipers would kill him, too…_

_But then he was… someplace else…_

_Someplace familiar…_

_Someplace frightening…_

_His foster father, his belt in hand, was coming toward him.  The man's huge hand flew out, striking him, knocking him to the floor.  Then the big man was wading in amongst the other children, but they weren't his foster brother and sisters, they were his friends, but now they were just boys, just like he was – small and helpless when faced with the size and strength of the big man._

_The belt came down with a crack as it was stopped by Chris' back.  The blond boy screamed in pain._

_The belt came down again, harder this time._

_"No!" he screamed at the man, lunging up off the floor and launching himself at him, determined to stop him before he killed Chris.  But he was caught, held away like he was no more than a pup.  Then, shaken and thrown back onto the floor.  The belt landed across his naked ass.  He screamed…_

_His foster father leered down at him.  He reached down to cup himself through the fabric of his pants, and Vin knew one of them would be violated tonight…_

_But then he was… someplace else…_

_Someplace familiar…_

_Someplace frightening…_

_The ranch.  He was out at the ranch, with Chris.  The handsome blond was working out in front of the barn, his shirt off due to the heat of the day.  Vin felt his mouth go dry as he stared at the man.  He stared at the way his muscles moved under his skin…  The way the sweat was trickling down his back, into the crack of his–_

_"Oh, shit," he moaned softly to himself, feeling his cock beginning to swell._

_And then Chris was in his face, calling him ugly names, asking him if he thought he was ever going to fuck him…_

_He pleaded for understanding, but Larabee was livid.  He punched him in the face, knocking him down, stomping on him, like his foster father…_

_Then, Chris pulled his gun, pointed it at him, morphing into the enemy sniper just before he pulled the trigger…_

_But he was… someplace else…_

_Someplace familiar…_

_Someplace frightening…_

_Back at the unfinished business park, and he was pulling the trigger, but his bullet didn't hit the man threatening his team, it hit Chris Larabee…_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**16 December 1999**

**Thursday**

 

          Vin yelped and bolted upright in his bed.  Gasping for breath, he sat, shaking. Sweat ran into his eyes, making them sting, or maybe it was the tears that threatened.

          Using the sheet, he wiped his face, silently cursing himself.  He had known this was going to happen, had seen it coming, and he hadn't done a damn thing to stop it.

          He sighed heavily.  How the hell had he let Larabee talk him into this in the first place?  But he knew how.  He'd taken one look at the man and he'd…  He'd what?

          Lost his soul in those damn green eyes?  Yeah, probably.  Lost his sanity?  Oh, yeah, definitely.

          But why had he agreed to join another team?  At least in the Federal Marshal's office he'd worked alone, but now…  Hell, now he was right back in the same situation he'd been in during his Army hitch – a team member, a sharpshooter for another group of men who depended on him to watch their backs.

          And there had been some close calls, just like he'd had with his Ranger unit.  But this was different, too.  At least in the Army he hadn't been working with someone who…

          Made him hard every time he let himself stop and think about him.

          No.  He was _not_ going down that road.

          An explosive sigh burst past his lips.  He knew it didn't help that Christmas was getting closer.  Everyone seemed so damned happy about it, and they were all trying so hard to make it fun for him, too.  But this wasn't a fun time of year for him, and watching them try to make it so just left him feeling more and more edgy.

          And they were starting to notice.

          He _had_ to get his shit together, and in a hurry.  He'd already seen the way Larabee was starting to watch him, with that, What are you thinking, Vin? question in his eyes.  But there was no way in hell he was ever going to tell the man.

          No way, no how.

          But sooner or later, if he didn't get his shit together, Larabee was going to ask him that question, or one just like it:  What's bothering you, Vin?  Something on your mind, Tanner?

          He was already dreading the meeting he had with the man later today.  What was Chris going to say?  Or, worse still, what questions was he going to ask?

          Vin knew he couldn't explain his recent mood, not without breaking out some memories and some feelings he'd promised himself he would never revisit.

          But they kept coming back in his dreams, forcing him to remember, and to feel them one more time.

          And that was something he just wouldn't allow to happen.  He wouldn't.  Couldn't.

          Team Seven was his family, and he wasn't going to do anything, feel anything that might endanger that.

          He flopped back on the bed with a huff and shook his head.  He _had_ to stop thinking about Larabee – _had_ to.  He had to get his attraction to Larabee under control.  Right damn now, before his secret slipped out, before he ruined the best friendship he'd ever had.  Before he did something he'd sworn he'd never do.

          He wasn't gay.  He wasn't sure what the hell he was, but he wasn't gay.  He wouldn't let that be the case.  Chris was his best friend, a brother, and that was all he was ever going to be, period, end of freakin' story.

          But he still didn't know how to stop the dreams.

          And, if he was completely honest with himself, he was glad he didn't know how to control them.  They were his only escape, his only outlet, but lately they had gotten all twisted around.  Now they were riddled with violence, with old fears, old horrors.  They weren't safe anymore, and that meant that the one distraction he'd had was gone, and he honestly didn't know if he could survive without it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**18 December 1999**

**Saturday, 1:15 p.m.**

 

          Vin Tanner rode along a ridge above Eldorado Canyon.  The former bounty hunter turned U.S. Marshal turned ATF agent looked out over the rolling pine-covered mountains, broken occasionally by rock, stands of naked aspen and poplars, and an occasional patch of snow, and nodded.  It was rugged land, but startlingly beautiful, and it felt good to be back in the mountains again, to be _alone_ again.

          With only a week to go before Christmas, the air was crisp and cold, the pervasive scent of pine mixing with the smell of leather and sweaty horse.

          He smiled.  Maybe his friends had come up with a good idea after all.

          Glancing down at the experimental digital compass/homing beacon hanging from around his neck, he grinned.  Even though no one had said anything about it, his friends were all still worried about the injuries he had sustained just before Thanksgiving.  The device was their way of keeping an eye on him while still being able to call it a "field test" of something they might one day use in their work.

          Well, he couldn't really hold their concern against them, now could he?  But it was taking some getting used to.  He hadn't had anyone care about him like that since his grandfather was alive, and now he had six anyones.  It was a little mind-boggling at times.

          Now, if he could just keep his feelings about Chris limited to friendship and brotherhood, he'd be okay, but that was proving to be a lot harder than he'd expected.

          Checking his watch, Vin estimated that he'd reach the small cabin outside of Nederland in less than an hour.  He patted the neck of the mixed-breed gelding he rode, pleased with the animal's performance.  Not for the first time he wished he was riding Peso, but the big black gelding was still recovering from a knee strain and the rough terrain would have been too much for him right now.  The smaller, trail-smart buckskin was willing, quick, and sure-footed, so he'd made good time.  But then again, he wasn't fighting bootleggers, gun-runners, or fugitives along the way, either.  In fact, there was nothing at all to distract him except the simple beauty of the landscape, and that was more than enough for the weary man.

          He needed the time away from the city, away from the other men, and most especially away from Chris for a while.

          He wasn't actually that far from Denver – something he had insisted upon when Larabee demanded he take a short "vacation."  No matter what he was dealing with, he wanted to get back in time to help finish the Christmas preparations, not to mention do his own shopping.  He might not enjoy the season, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to hold up his end of the festivities.

          Thoughts about the upcoming holiday made his skin tingle.  Christmas…  He was going to have a real Christmas for the first time in years and years and years, and he wasn't quite sure how to feel about it, or how to act.  All of his friends, even Chris, who had every reason to ignore the holiday, had thrown themselves into the preparations.

          And he knew at least one reason for their enthusiasm – he had let it slip that he hadn't had a real Christmas since he was ten – so long ago… more than a lifetime, really.

          Vin thought about the six men and what they would probably be doing, and urged his mount down the trail and over another section of rough shale.  Behind him, he could hear the angry calls of a mockingbird, his activity disturbed by horse and rider passing.

          "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Tanner muttered to the bird.  "We're goin' as fast as we can."

          Sunlight filtering through the pines caught his attention and he pulled the gelding to a stop, staring at the sight, reveling in the sheer beauty of it.  Then the guilt began to nag at him again.

          Why, if he enjoyed working with, and being with, his friends so much, did he also long for moments like this?  Why did he still need to get away from them and spend time alone?  It just didn't seem right.  If he cared that much, then he shouldn't mind being around them, shouldn't need to escape.  Should he?

          Damned if he knew.

          The members of Team Seven had become so much a part of his life over the past twenty-four months it was hard for him to believe he'd been alone two years ago.  And they had all seeped into his soul somehow.  It had been slow at first, his defenses still securely in place, but the eventual outcome had been inevitable.  Inch by inch, day by day, they had each found their places within his heart until, finally, he had realized it was too late – he had allowed himself to care.

          They were his friends now, his family.  And no one had gotten under his skin quite like Chris Larabee, his boss and his best friend.

          Ever since he met the blond, it had felt like he had discovered some missing part of himself.  His friendship with Larabee completed him in ways he'd never experienced before, and never expected to again.  Some missing part of his soul had been returned to him the first time he'd caught and held Chris Larabee's eyes.  He didn't understand it, and he'd stopped trying to reason it out, just accepting it as a fact.  It was the most important fact in his life, the one that framed everything else he did and thought and said.

          And it had only taken about six months before he'd started having dreams… impossible, stupid dreams, but, God, how he looked forward to them, to being able to _be_ with Chris, even if it was just in his mind every few nights.

          It had been hard, at first, wanting Chris like he did and knowing that he'd never have him.  But it had gotten easier over time.  Their closeness made it more tolerable.  In fact, he had gotten so he could basically turn off his attraction around Larabee, he just couldn't keep it turned off.

          And, at this moment, riding through the mountains, alone, it felt as if he were a hundred years and miles away from the crazy turns his life had taken since he met Chris Larabee.  It was easier here to imagine that his attraction was just a dream, that he didn't actually feel those things himself, but he knew he did, right down into the centers of his bones.

          Even now they were lurking at the edges of his awareness, tantalizing thoughts and images that threatened to send his libido spiraling out of control.  And he knew, without a doubt, that he would spend some part of his evening, thinking about what it would be like if he could be with Chris, love him, be loved by him…

          His cock twitched in response and he abruptly turned the thoughts off, calling up the simple phonic chant of centering his grandfather had taught him when he lived with the old man on the Kiowa reservation, forcing the gnawing need back into the cluttered corners of his mind.

          He concentrated on his objective – the summit of the jagged ridge he was riding along.  When he reached the top, Vin decided, he would sit and spend some time _not_ thinking.  He would clear his mind and, hopefully, lay some ghosts to rest – once and for all, if he had anything to say about it.

          He remembered his grandfather standing on the summit of a different mountain far away from this one, a seven-year-old Vin beside him.

          "Mountains are wise teachers, boy," the old man had told him.  "If we're wise enough t' listen an' t' learn.  Y' listen, boy, 'n' learn.  Only way y'll survive in this world."

          Vin wondered if this mountain had a lesson it might share with him, and hoped it was one of acceptance, of family and friends, and finding his place among them.  Of making peace with a love that could never be spoken of out loud.

          He inhaled a deep breath, savoring the clean air, the peace.  Then another pang of guilt crept back into his thoughts.  He really should be back in Denver.  He still had Christmas shopping to finish, and there were all the activities the others had planned – decorating at Larabee's ranch, and at Nettie's house, picking out a tree for the ranch and dressing it up, wrapping the gifts for the women and kids up at the Longmont shelter where Rain worked…  And here he was, enjoying himself, alone, out in the middle of nowhere, getting nothing done.

          But God, he was glad to be away, even for just a short while.  Sometimes it felt like he was going to just explode inside, like all the things he was feeling just kept building up until he couldn't contain them anymore.  Even when he had turned off his attraction he could still feel it, moving inside of him, growing…

          And he really didn't want to spoil the holiday for the others, not in any way.  And he especially didn't want to ruin things for Chris.  If his feeling slipped out…  He'd lose his place on the team, lose his… family, his home.

          Vin hadn't felt like he had a home since his grandfather's death, but now he had one.  And he could lose it… or worse, he could end up being the cause of his own loss.

          All his life, Vin Tanner had been more or less alone.  His grandfather had died when he was almost eleven, just like his mother had when he was only five – unexpectedly – and Vin had been handed over to the foster care system, and his life had quickly become nothing less than a living nightmare of epic proportions.

          School had been his only escape, and he had done his best, but without the support his grandfather had given him, his grades suffered and he fell further and further behind his classmates.  Desperate, he had finally run away when he was fifteen, but life on the streets in Purgatory had almost been as bad as life in his foster home – almost.

          But then he'd met Tom Redbear, a Comanche bounty hunter, and he'd found he had family again.  Tom had forced him back into school and ridden his ass, making sure the teenager did his homework and stayed out of trouble until graduation.  He'd also taught the young man a trade – bounty hunting.

          An unfortunate run-in with the law while on a hunt had landed Vin in front of a juvenile court judge.  It was just a few weeks shy of Tanner's eighteenth birthday and the no-nonsense ex-Marine, Judge Harold Oxford, had offered the teen a choice – County Jail or the military.  Tom had been an Army Ranger during Vietnam, so Vin had jumped at the chance to make his mentor proud and picked the military.

          In basic training, Vin had endured the hazing and pain dished out by his drill instructors without complaint or visible anger.  The harder they tried to break him, the stronger his resolve grew to not be touched by their words or their actions.

          The DIs had quickly gained a grudging respect for the young man's resolve, control, and strength – both mental and physical, so when he finished bootcamp, they had recommended him for additional training, and by the time it was all over, he had been an Airborne Army Ranger and a budding sniper.

          Vin smiled to himself.  The Army had been the greatest positive challenge he'd ever faced, and he'd conquered it, thrived.  And along the way he'd learned more about himself than he wanted to face.

          Vin had never expected to be popular with the other men in his unit, he'd just wanted to keep them alive and accomplish the missions they were given.  But it wasn't long before the majority of his squad saw through the quiet exterior to the man beneath.  And they had learned a trick that the members of Team Seven had mastered as well – no matter how neutral Tanner's expression might be, he couldn't hide the truth in his eyes, not when it really counted.

          In the Army, Vin had felt like he was a part of something bigger than himself, something worth dying for.  But Army life, with its endless rules and regulations, didn't really suit him, so he'd left the service after his four-year hitch was up, returning to bounty hunting.

          With Redbear and other mentors, Tanner had honed his skills and quickly gained the respect of the other hunters he crossed paths with.  Just before he died, Tom had introduced Vin to an old friend of his, Jack Terrier, U.S. Marshal.

          Vin had let himself be talked into joining the service, mostly because he knew Tom was dying, and that was what the man wanted for him.  The older bounty hunter wanted him to have the safety net the government provided, and bounty hunting didn't, but Tanner had quickly become restless, as if sensing that something else was waiting for him.

          It was that feeling which had prompted him to take the small steps that had eventually brought him closer to the men he now called his family.  He'd completed more sniper training and started looking for openings in other agencies.  And that had landed him in Larabee's office as Chris was pulling together what would become Team Seven.

          The first time Vin looked Chris in the eye, he'd known he belonged at Larabee's side.  He wasn't sure why, wasn't even sure it was a good idea, but he'd known he couldn't say no if Larabee offered him the job, which he did.

          As Vin had gotten to know the other men on the team, he had known there was no going back.  He had finally found someplace where he truly belonged.

          Buck Wilmington, an old friend of Larabee's, had taken to him almost immediately.  For the longest time there was something in Buck's eyes that had disconcerted Vin, but then he'd realized that it was gratitude.  The ladies' man was grateful that Vin had somehow put the spark back in Chris' eyes; had given Chris back something he had lost when his wife and son were killed.  Vin still wasn't sure how or why that had happened, but he was glad it had, and so was Buck.

          Josiah reminded Vin of Tom, and their friendship had become deep, with paternal overtones Vin had so dearly missed after the Comanche died.

          Nathan had been easy-going and open, making it easy to build a rapport with the man.  Good thing, too, since as the team's medic, Vin had had to rely on the man's talents more than once already.  But he was like an older brother, someone who looked out for him.  And JD was everybody's little brother.

          Ezra had been an enigma at first, but as soon as Vin had realized that they were both hiding things from their pasts, it was easier to take the man's dictionary speech and fancy clothes in stride.  It was all a cover, and the few times Vin had met the man's gaze, letting Standish know he saw right through it, had been enough to cement their friendship.

          Six men, strangers at first, then friends, had quickly grown into the brothers they were now.  Vin smiled.  A band of brothers, yep that was what they truly were to one another.  Well, all of them except Chris.  Chris was more than a brother, but that was his secret – one he vowed he would take to his grave with him.

          Still, given their bond, it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to him when Chris noticed his growing discomfort.  Larabee had even bluntly asked if Tanner was getting bored with the job, or the company.

          "No, course not!" he'd replied indignantly.

          "Then what is it?"

          Vin had turned away, pacing across Larabee's office.  He didn't want to talk about it, but the more he tried to avoid it, the more Chris was going to push him until he surrendered and gave him what he wanted, and that was impossible.

          "Vin," Chris had chided.  "What is it?"

          _Damn, damn, damn_ , Tanner had thought.  But it was no use.  He had to come up with something plausible, divert Chris before he got too close to the truth, or he slipped and gave it away.  "It's just…  Ah, hell, Chris, I could just use some time t' clear m' head, is all.  What with the holidays gettin' close, it just feels so damn… crowded."

          "That's it?" Larabee had asked suspiciously.

          "Ain't that enough?" he'd snapped back, desperate.

          "You mean to tell me you've been acting like a damn wolf in a cage because you need some time alone?"

          Vin had stiffened.  "Don't _need_ it," he'd snapped.  "I–"

          "Why don't you just take a few days off?  You've got the time."

          Tanner's blue eyes had narrowed.  "We're workin' a case, Larabee, an' I'm responsible for coverin' yer sorry ass – them, too.  If y' think–"

          "Oh, come on, Vin, I'm not suggesting a six-month sabbatical, just a day or two someplace close by.  There hasn't been any activity in over a week, and it's almost Christmas.  Our guy's probably closed up shop until after the first of the year."

          Vin had argued the same points in his own mind, but his responsibilities were far too great for him to just pack up and take off for a few days.  Not when they might end up going after a gun-runner with at least two former Marine snipers on his payroll.  If something were to happen to one of the team because he wasn't there….  "No."

          "I have a friend who has a cabin up near Nederland–"

          "Chris, I know y' mean well, but–"

          "Look, I'll make it an order if you want me to.  I _am_ your boss, right?  So, I'm _ordering_ you to take a couple of days off.  It'll improve your disposition, clear your head."

          "What the hell's wrong with m' disposition?" Vin had demanded, his voice rising.

          Chris had fought back a grin when Buck asked, "You want a list, or just the highlights?"

          Tanner had turned to glare at Wilmington as he strolled in to join the pair in the office.

          Chris had flashed Buck a covert thumbs-up.

          "There's nothin' wrong–"

          "Vin, you've been acting like a damned bear with his paw caught in a trap the last few days.  You thought about takin' a few days off?" Buck had asked the sniper.

          Vin's hand had risen and fallen with a wave of frustration as he glowered at the two men.  "It's a damned conspiracy, that's what it is."

          "Think of it this way," had come Josiah's voice from the doorway, "we're not doing it for _you_ , we're doing it to give ourselves a vacation from all that Tanner brouhaha."

          "Brew-what?" Vin had snapped.

          "That right, Junior," Buck had said.  "That's it exactly."

          Vin had sighed and rolled his eyes.  Why couldn't they just speak English?

          Later that same day, when Ezra, JD, _and_ Nathan had all told him more or less the same thing, Vin knew it _was_ a conspiracy.  He also knew he was going to lose the battle.  They had decided he needed a vacation, and they were determined to see he got one – whether or not he agreed with them.  And he did agree with them, he just didn't want to admit it.  Seeing the concern in Chris' eyes was almost his undoing.  He had to get away from the man for a while.

          So, he'd agreed to go, with a few conditions.

          "Conditions?  Like what?" Larabee had asked suspiciously.

          " _I_ decide where I'm goin'."

          "What else?" the blond had asked him.

          "'M only goin' for forty-eight hours."

          "Sounds like you've got someplace in mind," Nathan had said.  "What's it going to be?"

          "Short trip up Eldorado Canyon," Vin had said succinctly, shooting Larabee a look.

          The blond had smiled, obviously glad Vin was going to take him up on his offer of a cabin.  Damn the man anyway.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**17 December 1999**

**Friday, 6:25 p.m.**

 

          "Here you go, Vin," JD said, holding up a small black box about the size of a cell phone.  It was dangling from a nylon cord.  "This is experimental, so be careful with it, okay?  It's a GPS-based tracking device so we can keep an eye on your progress.  You just wear it around your neck.  It also has a built-in digital _and_ lensatic compass so you won't get lost."

          "I won't get lost," Vin said confidently.

          "Humor us, Junior," Buck said, patting Tanner's shoulder.

          "Besides, it's all part of that stuff we're supposed to play with and then send back with completed surveys," Chris told the sharpshooter.

          JD continued, ignoring the interruption.  "This…"  He held up a second small instrument that was slightly larger than a cell phone.  "…is a high-powered radio you can use to reach us – in case there's trouble."

          Vin nodded.  "Trouble" was a two-way proposition as far as he was concerned.  "Just be sure you give me a call if there's any movement on the Gomez case."

          JD nodded that he would.

          Taking the two devices, Vin slipped the tracking beacon around his neck with a sigh, then tucked the radio into his backpack.

          "You be careful, y'hear?" Nathan said.  Heading into the mountains in late December sounded like anything but a vacation to him.  Still, the weather reports were calling for clear skies over the next few days.  Vin should be fine, and the rest of them would have the time they needed to get his presents wrapped and put under the tree at Chris' ranch without any worries about getting caught.

          "And you'll be back by Christmas," Buck said.  It wasn't a question.  This would be their first Christmas spent together as a team and the ladies' man was determined that they were _all_ going to spend it together, mostly for Chris' sake.  This was the first year since Sarah and Adam died that Larabee had actually been willing to celebrate the holiday.

          Tanner nodded, understanding the ladies' man's feelings.  "I'll only be gone two days."

          "Where, exactly, are you planning to go, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra asked him.  "It is winter out there, you do realize that, correct?"

          Vin smiled at the well-dressed man.  "Chris is gonna drop me off in Rollinsville tomorrow morning.  I arranged with I guy I know up there to have a horse waitin' for me."  He walked over to Larabee's picture window and pointed to one of the mountains that they could see in the near distance.  "Gonna take a ride up the ridge of Eldorado Canyon and head over t' Nederland.  I'll spend the night there, an' ride back t' Rollinsville where y'all c'n pick me up.  I'm thinkin' it'll be 'bout thirty-four hours, round trip, so I'll be back by dinnertime on Sunday."

          "I see," Standish said, satisfied.  Leave it to Tanner to make it back in time to eat.  The man was the proverbial bottomless pit.

          "Hey, Vin?"

          "Yeah, JD?"

          "Think you could bring back some pinecones for us to tie on the Christmas tree?" he asked almost shyly.  "My mom and I used to do that and it makes the tree look really nice."

          Tanner smiled.  "Sure.  Go grab me one of them plastic bags they use to line the trash cans so I have someplace t' put 'em."

          Chris watched as Vin attached the sheath for the knife he carried on these kinds of outings to his belt, then the holster for his Glock.  With that done, Tanner checked and readied the weapons as well.  He shook his head.  Well, Tanner was a federal agent, and a former bounty hunter.  It was probably better if he went armed, just in case.  After Christmas, when they finally ran Gomez to ground, he would see to it that they _all_ got some much-needed vacation time.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**18 December 1999**

**Saturday, 3:25 p.m.**

 

          Vin shifted his weight to aid the sturdy gelding as he maneuvered sure-footedly down a section of loose shale.  It felt good to feel the horse moving under him.  As a boy, he'd often wished he'd been born a hundred or more years earlier.  Living in the Old West would have been really something, especially if he'd had friends like he did now to watch his back.

          That thought gave him an idea for a gift he still needed to buy, and he grinned.

          A sudden, sharp pain exploded inside Tanner's skull just before he heard the crack of a rifle.  Knocked from the buckskin's back, Vin found himself sliding down the shale embankment.

          Trying desperately to stop his fall, he locked his knees and dug the heels of his cowboy boots into the loose rocks.  One heel caught, but it wasn't enough, and he continued forward, painfully wrenching his ankle in the process.  He picked up speed, rolling farther down the slope.

          A few moments later, Vin was lying on his back, waiting for the world to stop tumbling as he forced air back into his burning lungs.  A second rifle shot rang out, the bullet sending shards of rock flying.  Covering his face to protect his eyes from possible splinters, he rolled awkwardly away.  A sharp stab of pain in his calf preceded the third crack of the rifle.

          Vin ground his jaws together and scrambled as fast as his already-swelling ankle and numbed leg would permit, aiming for the cover of some evergreens growing nearby.  The drop-off, obscured in the shadows of the tall trees, caught him completely by surprise.  He tumbled into space, arms flailing.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Back at Larabee's ranch**

 

          "Chris!" JD yelled, bolting up out of his chair and racing to the doorway of the living room.

          The blond looked up from where he had been trying to untangle a strand of Christmas tree lights with Buck's help.

          "What's up, JD?" Wilmington asked, grinning at Larabee, who was draped with several feet of colored lights.

          "It's Vin's tracking light," Dunne stated.

          "What about it?" Chris snapped, a cold knot forming in the pit of his stomach. He'd been worrying about Tanner for almost an hour, but he'd dismissed the feeling as foolish.

          "His signal just died."

          Larabee felt his stomach clench into a tight fist.  He shrugged the lights off and stood, following JD back to the laptop computer that was set up on the dining room table.  Buck was on his heels.

          The other men had headed out after Chris and Vin left for Rollinsville that morning.  They were picking up food and presents, which had left Dunne in charge of monitoring Vin's progress over the course of the day while Chris and Buck carted down the decorations from the attic and got started on that.

          When Chris had returned from dropping Vin off, he had a beautiful, full, eight-foot blue spruce for them to decorate.

          Checking on the blinking cursor as it slowly progressed along the topographical curves outlined on the screen had helped JD pass the time while he supervised Chris and Buck as they started in on the tree.  After hearing some of the conversation passing between the two men, he'd headed into the dining room and, bringing up a second screen, entered his gaming group and picked up where he'd left off while he kept an eye on Vin's progress.  That had been about an hour ago.

          Larabee checked the glowing computer screen.  The flashing blip was definitely absent.

          "What now?" Buck asked, the serious tone of his voice telling the two other men how worried he was.

          "Hey, what's up?" Nathan asked, walking in with Josiah and Ezra.  "Vin leaping mountain peaks with a single bound?"

          "We've lost his signal," JD said worriedly.

          The medic frowned.  "What?"  The three men joined their friends as JD typed out a series of commands.

          A few minutes later Dunne looked up, concern shining in his hazel eyes.  "Nothing.  There's absolutely _nothing_ wrong with the computer, _or_ the program.  The transmitter's failed for some reason."

          "He has the radio," Josiah commented to no one in particular.

          "So why doesn't he use it?" Buck asked him.

          "Maybe he doesn't know he's not transmitting," Nathan offered.  "Could there be something wrong with the device?" he asked JD.

          "I suppose elephants might've trampled it, but I doubt it.  I checked all that stuff over _real_ close before he left, and they were supposed to check it before they gave it to us to test."

          "But it is an experimental device, is it not?" Ezra said.  "This could easily be another fine example of the lowest bid at work, or not, as the case may be."

          "If there was trouble, he'd call," Josiah said.

          "Unless the radio isn't working either," Buck added.

          "Find out," Larabee stated.

          JD nodded and opened an equipment box sitting next to his chair.  Pulling out a matching radio, he opened it and keyed the mike.  "Vin, do you copy?"

          The silence that filled the room left each of the men feeling anxious.

          "Can you call up the topographical map and show me _exactly_ where his last transmission came from?" Chris asked.

          JD nodded and hunched over the keyboard.  Less than a minute later, the screen shifted, showing a section of a three-minute map with a stationary blinking cursor marking Vin's last known position.

          "He made good time," Buck commented when he saw how far Tanner had gotten.

          "That's pretty rugged terrain.  Lot of things could happen out there.  He's what, about an hour from Nederland?" Nathan asked the others.

          Buck nodded.  "What are you thinking, Chris?"

          Larabee paused, but couldn't bring himself to voice his worst fears.  He shrugged and huffed out a sigh.

          "Do you believe Mr. Tanner has met with an accident?" Ezra asked the man.

          "Maybe."

          "I don't think we're dealing with equipment failure," JD said, his gaze meeting and holding Chris'.  "Not unless it got damaged somehow."

          Chris knew he had to find out, and as quickly as possible.  He had a terrible feeling he might have lost the one thing that had made life worth living again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          It was almost dark when Vin finally awoke.  His head and leg throbbed in painful harmony, his chest burned, and a general ache everywhere else made his return to consciousness about as unpleasant as it could get.  Checking the position of the sun, he estimated that he'd been unconscious for an hour or so.

          _Too long_.

          Somewhere in the back of his mind the eight steps of survival began to echo, sounding just like Sergeant Sampson when he had drilled them into him during his Ranger training.

          Step One:  size up the situation.   _Piss poor_ , Vin concluded _._

          He wanted to survey the area for whoever had shot him, but the second step of survival interrupted:  undue haste is unhealthy.  The immediacy of his injuries made a search impossible, so he inventoried.

          Ankle:  wrenched, but not broken.  The cowboy boots he was wearing had held the swelling in check so he left it alone.

          The wound in his upper calf had dumped what looked like a lot of blood onto the ground, and he moved slowly, away from the pooled liquid, which he covered with a few handfuls of loose dirt and some pine needles, spreading the debris out evenly to – hopefully – keep his attackers from finding him too quickly.  The cold weather was aggravating the problem, thinning his blood and making it harder for the wound to clot.

          At least he was still wearing his backpack, which held a first aid kit and the radio JD had given him.  He smiled thinly.  It was too late for a chopper to fly in and get him tonight.  One way or another, he was stuck out here until morning, but if he didn't get the bleeding stopped, he wouldn't last that long.

          He used his handkerchief to bind the wound, then carefully made his way over to the side of the cliff face.  He leaned against it, grateful for the rocky shelf above him.  It would hide him from sight if anyone looked down from where he'd fallen.  He shrugged the pack off with a grimace and removed the first aid kit.  Then, using his knife, he cut his jeans open from the ankle to the knee along the seam, peeling the denim off the entry wound.  There was no exit wound.

          "Great," he breathed.

          His hands trembling slightly, Vin untied the cloth and opened the plastic box and removed the bottle of povidone-iodine.  Pouring it over the seeping opening caused him to suck in a sharp breath.  When the wave of pain subsided to a tolerable level, he removed several of the individual dressing pads, opened them and pressed them against the injury, hoping the force would be enough to stop the flow of blood.

          He was down to the last of the dressings before the bleeding finally stopped, and he tied the compress bandage down tightly over the wound, hoping he wouldn't have to make any long hikes.

          His inventory continued.  Hips were fine.

          He probed his abdomen, finding it bruised, but there were no internal injuries as far as he could tell.  That was good.

          _Ribs?_   He touched them gently.  "Ahhhh," he hissed.  _Just bruised, though_.

          Opening his jacket, he unbuttoned his thick flannel shirt and carefully pulled the blue thermal T-shirt up to find a large, purple bruise spreading along his right side.

          Rest of his upper body was fine, and his back seemed okay.

          Eyes:   _fuzzy_.

          Ears:   _ringing_.

          Neck: _feels like somebody tried t' twist it off_.

          He gingerly probed the side of his head, just above his left ear, with his fingertips, and they came away sticky with blood.  He wasn't sure if it was from a graze or if he'd hit his head in the fall.

          Could he have a concussion?  What were the symptoms?  He'd definitely lost consciousness, and there was the headache slamming against his temples…

          His teeth chattered, scattering his thoughts.

          The third step of survival asserted itself:  remember where you are.

          He glanced around.  He'd been about an hour away from Nederland and the cabin, now he was about ten or twelve feet below that last position.

          _Past time t' get movin'_.

          Reaching for the compass/homing beacon hanging around his neck, he managed to grab it before a wave of nausea forced him to lean back.  Holding the device up, Vin scowled at the smashed face.

          "Ah hell."

          Closing his eyes for a moment, he concentrated on slowing his breathing, then tried to gently push the queasiness away, but it refused to go and he bent over, his stomach emptying.  When he could rise again, he sagged back against the cliff face and closed his eyes, wishing he had the strength to dig his canteen out of his pack so he could rinse his mouth.  He shivered again and forced his eyes open.

          Survival, step four:  vanquish fear and panic.  Easier said than done, but what choice did he have?  He had to find shelter.  Not only might the person or persons who had taken a shot at him show up to see what they'd hit, but the temperature was dropping rapidly.

          _Sun's just set_ , he concluded, noting the scattering of stars twinkling above him in a pale, violet sky.  And clouds were building in the west.  He thought about the borrowed gelding and the tent and warm sleeping bag tied to the back of the animal's saddle, but he knew there was no use wanting what you didn't have.

          Sitting up as carefully as he could, Vin repacked the first aid kit in his backpack and pulled out the canteen.  He rinsed his mouth, then put the container back.

          Using the stained handkerchief, he tied the bloody gauze pads up in it.  The ground was too hard to dig a hole to bury the materials, but he hobbled over to a nearby pine tree and tied the handkerchief to the underside of one of the boughs so it would be hidden from view in case the shooters arrived, not to mention away from some of the curious noses of the local inhabitants.

          _The others have got t' be worried_ , he knew, glancing around.  _Ah hell, I've got a damn radio!_

          He dug into the backpack, finding and removing the second device.  He opened it.  Inside was the small two-way radio and it appeared undamaged.  He turned it on and listened to the static.  Glancing around, he wasn't sure if it was the ravine he was in that was blocking the transmission, or if the radio itself had been damaged somehow.

          "Figures," he muttered, shoving it back into his pack.  The others had to know something was wrong.  His beacon had probably cut out as soon as he'd broken it, so they ought to be ready to come looking for him as soon as they could in the morning.  The certainty with which he knew that was both frightening and far more comforting then he'd ever imagined it could be.  "Just don't be late," he told them, then forced himself to his feet, slipped the pack over his shoulder, and hobbled off.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "I don't think the radio's working," JD grumbled.  "What good is this stuff if you can't use it?"  No one bothered to answer – two hours of waiting had left them all on edge.

          Chris turned and stared at Dunne.

          "What?" the youngest member of the team asked, afraid he might have inadvertently angered the man.

          " _Why_ wouldn't the radio work?"

          JD's brow furrowed.  "Well, I guess the most obvious answer would be it's broken, like the tracking device."

          "What else?"

          The young man's brow wrinkled more, then smoothed when he finally realized what Larabee was fishing for.  "I suppose there might be some sort of interference…"

          "That's it!" Buck said, moving swiftly to the computer.  He tapped the screen emphatically.  "Look, Vin was here, right?"

          JD slid back into his chair and checked.  "Yeah," he agreed, not sure what had the ladies' man so excited.

          "JD, _look_ ," Wilmington insisted.

          Dunne leaned in closer to the screen and Larabee joined him, peering over his shoulder.

          "A ravine," Chris said a moment later, nodding.

          "If he ended up down there, it could explain the radio silence," Buck said.  "I don't think a signal could get out; it's too steep, too deep."

          Larabee nodded.  "He's down there.  Don't ask me how I know, but I do.  And he's in trouble."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin limped into the cover of the trees, the fifth step of survival whispering in his ears:  improvise.

          He actually knew what he was looking for, and it wasn't too long before he smiled weakly and hobbled over to a large pine tree that fit the bill.  In years when the summers were dry and the winters particularly hard, the local deer population resorted to eating the evergreens to stave off starvation.  The trees, stripped of their lowest boughs, still sported long, thick limbs just out of reach of the animals, some of which had grown back to their full length as the deer were thinned out by hunters or had their diets supplemented with hay air-dropped by concerned State Park officials.

          Pulling up one of those long boughs and ducking beneath the lowest branches, Vin found himself in a perfect, if short, ring of space, protected by the thick pine boughs.  Lowering himself to the ground, he was relieved to find it almost dry.  Interweaving the prickly smaller branches above him created a workable temporary shelter.

          When he finished, he slumped back against the trunk of the tree and panted, trying to catch his breath while not drawing in much air at a time.  Along the peripheral rim of his vision, blackness began to draw a tighter net around his consciousness.

          He shook his head.  _No.  I can't pass out now_.

          Reaching up, he pushed the hair off his forehead.  He was sweating, but his skin felt cool and clammy.  _Ah, hell, ain't that a sign of shock?_

          The sixth rule of survival stated itself with authority:  value living.  Vin did, and he quickly set his mind to recalling everything the _Armed Forces Survival Guide_ had said about shock.

          He closed his eyes and noted that it was getting harder to concentrate, but he forced himself to focus and to remember.  His instructor's voice suddenly became very clear in his mind.  Early symptoms of shock included…  _Rapid pulse?_

 _Check_.

          _Pale skin?_   Tanner almost giggled.  He'd always thought of himself as a pale-skinned Indian, being a quarter Kiowa on his mother's side.

          "That does it," he mumbled aloud, "if 'm ready t' laugh at that, I _have_ t' be in shock."

          _An' 'm definitely cold an' clammy an' short 'a breath_ , he acknowledged silently while he waited for a chill to subside.

          He contemplated building a small fire in the shelter for warmth, knowing he needed to make sure he didn't add to his problems with a case of hypothermia.  The temperatures would drop into the upper 20s or low 30s, and the wind had begun to pick up, whiffling through the small space, first from one direction, then from another.

          That was a bad sign, he knew.  The weather was changing.  And, given the clouds he'd seen earlier, he guessed it meant some snow had snuck past the weather models the network weathermen used to forecast the next couple of days.

          Having convinced himself it was necessary to build the fire, Vin reached for his backpack, but stopped when he caught the sounds of someone moving through the trees.

          "Damn," he breathed, listening as the noises drew closer.  He could clearly make out the sounds of two voices, but their words were lost to distance and the wind.

          _So much for a fire_.

          Vin reached to ease his Glock out of its holster, but the weapon was gone, probably lost in his mad tumble down that shale slope earlier.  He settled on the knife.

          A second giggle made an attempt at bubbling over Tanner's lips as his favorite rule of survival, number seven, flashed through his mind:  act like a native.

          Remembering how his grandfather had told him about the Plains Indians willing themselves to blend into the tall grasses while they waited for the grazing herds of mustangs to wander close enough to lasso one, Vin willed himself to merge with the old pine and disappear.

          The voices grew progressively louder until they passed by him and faded into the gathering darkness.  Only then did Vin allow himself to relax again.  If he could stay where he was, Chris and the others would find him in the morning.  They would start at his last known position at first light and, if they could find where he had taken his fall, should have no trouble following the signs he'd left for them.

          He shivered.  It was getting colder, but a fire was too dangerous now.  He'd just have to tough it out and hang on until daylight.

          Reaching up, he quietly unzipped his jacket, opened his shirt collar, and loosened his belt.  He didn't want to sweat if he could help it; the moisture would steal away his body heat.

          Now, how he was supposed to treat shock?  His head was elevated, and he tucked his hands under his armpits, hoping it wouldn't get so cold he'd need to worry about frostbite.  The mild nausea was still with him, but he hadn't eaten since he left Rollinsville, plus the two power bars he'd eaten around lunchtime, so there was nothing left for him to get rid of.

          Glancing at his backpack, he considered trying some water, but if it made him sick, he might give his location away.   _Pass_ , he concluded.   _Last thing I need is a case of the heaves givin' m' location away_.

          Needing to concentrate on something to keep himself awake, Vin settled on a list of Chris Larabee's most annoying habits.

_He's a damned squid…_

_He's the only man I know who c'n read m' mind…_

_And why the hell didn't y' listen t' me?  I told y' this was a bad idea.  But no, y'all knew what was best.  Don't have any clue it's just lookin' at y' all the time, wantin' y' and knowin' I'm never gonna have y' that's drivin' me crazy…  Damn, Larabee, you're the best lookin' thing–_

_Ah hell, look at me, I can't even stop doin' it out here!_

_Just come get me t'morrow, okay?_

_This is gonna be m' first real Christmas since I was a kid.  It took me weeks t' figger out what t' get all 'a ya…_

_Wish I was back at the ranch, helpin' y' with the tree.  Shit.  Guess 'm not gonna get those pinecones for JD…_

_Sorry, kid._

_Hey, Chris, if y' c'n hear me, I just want t' say thanks… for givin' me back somethin' I guess I thought I wasn't supposed t' have – family.  Means more t' me than I'll ever be able t' say.  But I guess y' already know that…_

_Wish I could turn off these damn feelin's I have for y', but I can't.  Guess I'm gonna have t' find a way to deal with 'em.  Jerkin' off regular hasn't done it.  Neither has workin' out, or helpin' around the apartment building…  Hell, I even tried hookin' up with a couple of guys who look like y' and all that did was make it worse, which just sucks, y'know?_

_Fallin' in love with y' is probably the stupidest thing I've ever done, but I couldn't help it…_

_Hope y' don't hate m' guts when y' find out…_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Standing at the window, looking out at the night, Chris tugged at his itching earlobe and sighed, deciding it was time to check-in with JD.  He turned and started past the sofa in the living room, smiling encouragingly at Buck.  "You okay?"

          The ladies' man nodded.  "Just hope he's all right out there.  Damned storm came up out of nowhere…"

          Chris' head dipped.  "Yeah, I know what you mean," he said softly.  But he knew Vin was alive – in trouble, but alive.

          Larabee cast a worried look at the other men sleeping scattered throughout the room.  Knowing they were in for a long night, Nathan, Josiah, and Ezra had quietly stolen off and, taking the two sofas and a chair, had gotten comfortable and finally fallen asleep.

          When Buck had found them there later, the ladies' man didn't have the heart to wake them.  Instead, he'd taken some extra blankets from the hall closet and covered the three, leaving them to sleep.  And, after adding a log to the flames in the fireplace, began his vigil from the unoccupied end of the larger sofa.  Chris had come in to join him about a half hour ago.

          JD had stayed with the computer and the radio, just in case Vin tried to contact them, and when he'd grown tired, he'd leaned over, laying his head on his folded arms that were resting on the tabletop, and fallen asleep.

          Chris had been busy then, arranging for them to fly out to Vin's last known position in the morning, but once he finished with that, he'd split his time roaming back and forth between the living and dining rooms.  Never good at waiting, Larabee knew he was probably driving his friends crazy, but he just couldn't sit still and do nothing, not with Vin out there in trouble.

          Larabee smiled apologetically at Buck, and headed off to wake JD.

          Wilmington watched him go, worried about how Larabee would take the news of Vin's death, should things go badly for the man.  Tanner could be a pain in the butt sometimes, but he was their pain and, damn it, Wilmington didn't want to lose him.  For whatever reason, Vin had touched something deep inside Chris, bringing Larabee back to life.  And even if the stubborn blond wouldn't admit it, he relied on Vin's quiet strength and steady determination to keep his world grounded these days.

          Buck suspected that what Chris had found in Vin was the family he'd denied himself since his wife's and son's deaths.  Not that they weren't all family, but there was a special bond between the two men.

          He heard Larabee stop by the front door, pausing without exiting.  Perhaps Vin was more than a friend, more than family, Buck decided.  He and Vin were close, the ladies' man considering himself one of the sniper's best friends, but Chris' relationship with Vin was something more, something… deeper.  There were times he wished he understood it better – like when they appeared seconds away from killing each other, only to shift gears and move on, joking and congenial again.

          He smiled to himself.  Hell, he usually wished he understood one of the two men almost _all_ the time, when you came right down to it.

          Still, whatever bond the two men shared, it was obvious that it was precious to both of them.  He just hoped they could find Vin and bring him home for Christmas.  Chris had suffered enough loss in his life already, the last thing he needed was more.  Because Buck seriously doubted Chris would survive it this time.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Anything?" Chris asked JD softly.

          JD jerked and sat up, rubbing his eyes as he replied, "What?  Oh.  Uh, not a peep…  I hate this," he added in a whisper.

          "I'm not too thrilled about it myself.  I never should've pushed him into–"

          "We _all_ talked him into it, Chris, so don't blame yourself, okay?"

          Larabee smiled his thanks to the younger man.  "I've got the chopper lined up for the morning.  If we leave at dawn, we'll be at Vin's last known location by the time the sun's really up."

          "Can we all go?"

          Chris hesitated for a moment, then nodded, adding, "If there's room; otherwise you'll wear a path into my carpet, pacing between here and the living room.  To tell you the truth, I'm surprised Buck hasn't tied _me_ down yet."

          "The idea's crossed our minds, more than once," JD told him, a thin smile on his lips.  "But, right now, I think it'd be pretty hard to pin any of us down for too long."

          "Yeah," Chris agreed.  "Look, why don't you go crash in the guest room?  I'll sit with the computer for a while."

          "You sure?"

          Chris nodded.

          JD stood and stretched.  "Come get me if you hear anything, okay?"

          "I will."

          He reached out, giving Larabee's arm a light pat as he passed, heading for the guest room and some much-needed sleep.

          Chris dropped down onto the chair and sighed heavily.  _Damn it, Vin, you better hang in there.  You hear me?_

_I've got something special for you for Christmas and I damn well better get to give it to you.  Trust me, it's something you want.  But you've got to be here to get it.  So find someplace to hole-up and hang on until we can find you, okay?_

          He reached out, running his finger over the touch pad to bring the map back up on the screen.  Willing the homing beacon to reappear accomplished nothing, so he leaned back and stared at the screen until it went blank again.

          A shiver shook his body as he thought about the missing man, and he wondered if Vin was cold.  He would have to be…

          _I don't get it_ , he thought.  _I just don't get how I feel about you, Vin.  It makes no sense to me.  If you were a woman, I'd ask you out… try to get into your pants…  But you're not a woman_.

          _Kinda scares me, the way you look at me sometimes… like maybe you're thinking the same thing…_

_Have to admit, it's made me kind of… curious – what it would be like…_

_I've never told anybody – not even Buck – but I know what it's like, to be with another man…  Bet you never would've guessed that, right?_

_Back when I was in the SEALs… a good buddy of ours, Daniel Phillips, he was…  Shit, I'm not sure what the hell Bull was – het, gay, bi, or just so damn horny all the time he didn't give a fuck._

_He got me drunk one night, took me to this brothel he knew about…  I guess you'd have to call what we ended up in the middle of an orgy…  First and only time I was ever with another man, but I'll admit it wasn't all that bad…  It was pretty damn good, actually…  But sex for me has always been just… sex, a release, unless it was with someone I love_.

          _I never had sex with Sarah.  We make love…_

_You ever love somebody like that, Vin?_

          And sitting there, waiting, Larabee had the unsettling feeling that, just maybe, Vin might answer that question with a yes – that was exactly how he felt about Chris.

          _And what the fuck would I say to that?_ he wondered.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Very early the next morning**

**19 December, Sunday**

 

          Vin's head jerked up, a vise of unsettling agony tightening around his skull and causing him to moan softly.  He had been sleeping.

          _Stupid, stupid move, Tanner_ , he chided himself.

          The wound in his leg burned, and it was getting harder to breathe.  Checking his watch, he found the face distorted and unreadable.  He closed his eyes and tried to refocus, but the only thing he found on the glass face were images from his past, reflected back to him in the dim light falling through the pine boughs.

          He gasped, squinting through the higher branches, watching as a wave of white descended lower and lower…  He blinked.  Snow.  It was snowing.  That was where the dim light came from.

          Holding his wrist with his other hand, he forced himself to stare at the watch face until a time emerged – 4:15 – Chris and the others would be leaving just before first light.

          _Come on, concentrate_ , he chided himself.  _Dawn, when is it?_

_'Bout 7:30…  Three hours, then time for 'em t' find me, so… four, maybe five hours t' go._

_Piece 'a cake_.

          The snow, heavy with moisture, collected on the branches of the pines, weighing them down, and Vin watched as the boughs he sat under drooped lower, closing in around him.  He fought back an urge to bolt from the shelter, shaking his head.  This was _not_ Amarillo.  This wasn't a closet, or a storm cellar; his foster father was nowhere around…

          He forcefully remade the image – a sweat lodge, warm and safe.  He closed his eyes and felt the call of sleep.  _No, damn it, stay awake_ , he commanded himself.

          _Piece 'a cake_.

          Needing something to think about he turned again to Larabee…  Not all of the dreams he'd been having lately had been nightmares.  Some had been… breathtaking.

          Dreams where the naked blond writhed under him…  Dreams where he was being taken by the man…  Dreams where they lay in the same bed, pressed close to one another, holding and being held at the same time, just content in being close to each other…  All dreams…  All impossible to imagine in the daylight.

          But oh, how he wanted them to be.

          Was it too much to ask, for someone you love to love you back?

          But it must be.  Still, the dreams were better than nothing.  They would have to be enough.

          He wished he had the energy to masturbate to the memory of one of those dreams – it would help warm him up – but he knew he didn't.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Larabee's ranch**

**7:20 a.m.**

 

          The members of Team Seven sat or stood in Larabee's living room, trying to force down yet another cup of coffee.

          "Chris, Search and Rescue should be here soon.  Why don't you sit down?" Buck suggested pointedly.

          Larabee shot his friend an indulgent look.  "Why?  Because I've got enough caffeine and adrenaline in my system to give Vin a run for his money," he explained.

          Josiah smiled.  "I just wish they'd hurry.  I'm getting too old for this kind of waiting."

          Nathan grinned.  "We all are."

          "I looked it up online," JD said distractedly as he peered out the window, staring out at the mountain where Vin waited for them.

          "What's that?" Buck asked him.

          "Sunrise today, it's at 7:42."

          "Oh," Wilmington said, noting the dark circles under JD's eyes.  "Well, that's only twenty minutes."  A knock at the front door ended the conversation.

          Larabee stalked over and opened it.  He smiled when he recognized the man standing outside – Jake Carmell, a Search and Rescue pilot.

          "You and your men ready to go?" Carmell asked the blond.

          Larabee nodded.  "More than."

          "Let's roll, then.  I've got a chopper waiting for us, a big one, since I thought we might have to winch your man out, and that's the only way you're all going to fit in."

          Ezra turned slightly pale as he and the others reached them in time to hear Carmell's comment.  Nathan patted the dapper man's shoulder reassuringly, knowing Standish wasn't thrilled with heights.  "You can stay on-board.  It's not likely–"

          "I'm going, Mr. Jackson, I assure you," Ezra stated, and no one argued with him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**In the air**

**8:05 a.m.**

 

          The ATF agents sat along the sides of the old Bell UH-1 Iroquois chopper.  Larabee scanned the faces of his men.  Buck was checking a printout of the topographical map JD'd had up on his computer screen.  Josiah sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor of the helicopter, probably praying.  Ezra and JD talked quietly, and Nathan rummaged through the first aid kit he was holding, reassuring himself that everything was in order.  It would be a forty-five minute flight, slower than they anticipated due to the heavy moisture in the air, but at least the snow had stopped falling.

          Chris cleared his throat and five heads turned to stare at him.  "I know we're going to find him," he said over the mike that allowed his voice to carry over the noise of the engine.

          "Damn straight we are," Buck agreed emphatically.

          "But with the snow last night…"  Larabee studied his hands for a moment before continuing.  "It's going to be harder to track him."

          "We'll find him, Chris," Nathan said.

          Buck smiled thinly.  "I've never told y'all this, but I guess it's time.  You don't have to worry, we'll find him… I'm part bloodhound."

          The others chuckled and Chris offered his old friend a grim smile.  "Glad to hear it, ya old dog."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**At the same time**

 

          Two men moved silently through the pines, stopping occasionally to survey the landscape that was now covered by several inches of heavy, wet snow.

          "You sure he's here?" the taller of the two men asked, his face red from the exertion and the cold.

          "Yeah, I'm sure," his companion replied.  Removing his camouflage-colored baseball cap, he pushed his sweaty blond hair off his forehead.  "I know I hit 'im – twice.  Damn half-breed bounty hunter probably crawled off and found himself a cave or something, but we'll find him."

          "Then what, Hank?"

          "Then we can have us a little fun, Daryl, just like we did down in Gallup.  You remember that ol' Indian we found that night?"

          Daryl grinned and nodded.  "Yeah…  Sure was funny, watchin' him runnin' along the freeway buck naked.  That trucker sure as hell didn't expect to hit a naked Indian that night."

          "Old fool should've run the other way," Hank said, snickering.  "He was like a damned rabbit, headin' straight for the headlights like that."

          Daryl nodded.

          "Come on, let's find that damn squaw," Hank directed.  "Fucker hunted me once, put me in prison down in Arizona.  He's gonna pay for that."

          "What're you goin' to do?"

          "I'll come up something, don't you worry."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin sat, his back pressed against the tree trunk, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs, and his forehead on his knees.  Shivering, he concentrated solely on remaining awake.  It was slowly growing light.  Chris and the others would be there soon and he had to stay awake until they were.

          _How'd I let this happen?_ he questioned himself.

_How'd I let Larabee talk me int' leavin' when I knew better?_

_And I rode right int' an ambush!  Got myself shot…_

_Couldn't stop m'self from slidin' down that damn embankment, and t' top it all off, I stepped off the side of a fuckin' cliff!_

_This is gonna make for a helluva Christmas.  How the hell could I screw up a two-day vacation?_

          Above the sound of his own breathing Tanner heard the crunch of snow, warning him something or someone was nearby.  Looking up, he focused on the sound, willing all other distractions away.

          It was a deer, a young doe that had gotten caught before she could get out of the mountains before the snow hit.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The two men stood near a large pine, silently watching a young doe as she moved through the trees.

          "Come on, Hank," Daryl said, "it's just a doe.  What d'you care about her?"

          " _Look_ at her, Daryl," Hank hissed, his attention riveted on the animal.

          Daryl watched as the deer cautiously approached one of the larger pines, her neck stretched out, her nostrils flared, testing the air.  She shook her head from side to side, her tail flicking up to reveal two pure white flanks.

          "What the hell's she doin'?"

          "Smells something she don't trust," Hank whispered.  "You think maybe she's found our bounty hunter for us?"

          The deer stopped, large brown eyes watching one evergreen with suspicion.  She cocked her head, snorted, then dipped her head and walked off.

          "See?" Hank asked his companion, his voice dropping to a whisper as he pointed to a small puff of steam that curled up from the snow-covered boughs.

          Daryl shrugged.

          "He's in there, and he's still breathin'," Hank said, his face twisting into a sadistic mask of pleasure.  Lifting his rifle to his shoulder, he aimed for a spot several feet above the lowest branches and squeezed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin stilled, willing the deer to move on.  He didn't know if it would work, but he didn't want the animal giving away his location if the shooters were still looking for him.

          He knew that, in the mythology of some Native people, Deer symbolized gentleness, the power to touch those who had been wounded in heart or mind.  When Deer came, she carried with her a gentleness of spirit that healed all wounds.

          Vin wondered briefly if she wasn't asking him to accept the new home he'd found; to accept the others as the family they were, and let his feeling for Chris go.

          Or she could be warning him that he wasn't willing to love himself enough to let his old fears go.

          Maybe he was projecting his fears onto the others?

          It was too confusing in his present condition, and Vin tried to turn off his meandering thoughts.

          Love was Deer's gift, love and compassion, he concluded.  _Fear can't live where love is_ – unconditional love, like what he felt for Chris, and Larabee for him, he thought.

          It was a weird feeling, to connect with someone like that, and he probably wouldn't have thought it was even possible if it hadn't actually happened to him.  But it had happened.  One look and he knew he'd found a friend, a brother, who would always be there to watch his back.

          But would that love survive if Chris learned about Vin's true feelings?  He just wasn't sure.  And he simply couldn't take the chance.  He couldn't give up what he had to get what he wanted.  He just couldn't.

          The animal moved off and Vin let out the breath he'd been holding in a long sigh.

          Moments later, an explosion in the boughs above him sent huge clumps of snow raining down on him and Vin lunged painfully, pressing himself flat against the cold ground.

          So much for love and gentleness.

          "Hey, Tanner!" a masculine voice called.  "Come on outta there, boy!"

          "Ah hell," Vin breathed, then ground his teeth together, his eyes narrowing to thin slits.  The man knew his name…  An old bounty?  Someone from his days as a Marshal, or some of Gomez's men, maybe?

          "Now, _squaw_ , or we start shootin' up that pine 'til it's kindling."

          _Ah hell…_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          From across the chopper, Nathan gave Ezra a thumbs-up, then stepped clear of the open door.  Each of the ATF agents descended on ropes connected to a winch inside the Huey.

          When they reached the ground, they quickly detached their lines and the chopper swung off to the south, heading for a small clearing a few minutes away where Carmell could wait until they located Vin.

          Since they had no idea what was going on, Larabee had insisted that he and his men conduct the search for Vin.  There was no reason to risk the lives of the Search and Rescue crew if this was Gomez, or one of their other cases, come back to haunt them.

          The others followed Larabee as he led the way to the location of Vin's last transmission.  Standing there on the ridge, they surveyed the beautiful, rugged terrain around them.  There were millions of places for someone to hide, or disappear.  Chris shook off the negative thoughts and glanced back at Buck, who, it appeared, was thinking the very same thing.

          Movement in the trees upslope had the agents dropping automatically into defensive postures, their weapons coming up in their hands as they prepared for a fight.

          With a snort, Vin's buckskin gelding stepped out of the evergreens, his ears pricked forward as he nickered at the humans.  The animal took a tentative step closer, then stopped, unsure if the men were friends or not.

          JD straightened and walked slowly toward the animal, talking softly.  The horse watched him, snorting and bobbing its head as he approached.

          When he reached the animal, JD gathered up the trailing reins.  A quick inspection revealed a perfectly healthy, if somewhat nervous, horse.  Vin's tent, sleeping bag and saddlebags – full of food and equipment – were all undisturbed.  Then the younger man scowled.

          "Steep embankment," Josiah said, looking down at the disturbed rocks on the down-slope side of the trail.

          "I'll go take a look," Buck said, and started down, slipping and sliding.

          "Oh shit," JD hissed.

          "What is it?" Chris asked, striding over to join Dunne.  He gently patted the gelding's neck.

          JD had stepped around the animal and found a small drop of blood on the gelding's neck.  He held up a blood-smeared fingertip, saying, "Trouble, I think."

          "Hey, I've got something!" Buck called up from below, causing JD to jump.

          "Easy," Chris said, patting Dunne's shoulder.

          "Come on," Wilmington called again, waving for them to hurry.  "I found something."

          They each made their way down to the bottom of the shale embankment, joining Buck and following him into the trees where the ladies' man crouched down in an area that was still basically snow-free, the tightly-growing tall pines sheltering the ground.

          "What is it?" Nathan asked, glancing around.

          "Looks like Vin might've taken a tumble down that hill, then went over the side here."  He pointed out the prints he'd found, and the marks where it looked like someone had tried to stop, but hadn't been able to do so in time.

          Nathan and Josiah both leaned over the edge of the overhang, looking for Vin, but there was no sign of him.

          Chris squatted down, touched the ground and then rubbed at the blood on his fingers so Buck could see it.  "Maybe he didn't fall."

          Ezra stepped up to join them, but still kept a fair distance from the edge.  "What's going on?"

          Chris showed him his bloody fingertips.

          "I found some blood on Vin's horse, too," JD said softly.

          "I'm going down to see if I can find anything," Buck said, standing.

          Chris nodded.  "Be careful."  He looked over at Nathan and Josiah, adding, "You two cover him, just in case."

          Chris, Ezra and JD anchored the ladies' man as Buck used a coil of knotted line to make an orderly descent over the side.  At the bottom, he found Vin's Glock sticking halfway out of the snow, and held it up for the rest of them to see.

          "We're going down," Larabee stated, then knotted a second coil of line to the first and anchored it around the trunk of a pine.  It was only ten, maybe fifteen feet down, and they made their way down quickly.  Due to the steepness of the overhang and the trees growing out of the cliff edge at a sharp angle, some of the ground below was still almost snow-free.  Buck scouted ahead to see which direction Vin had taken.

          Nathan turned a frightened gaze on Larabee when he found the pool of blood, uncovered by several sweeps of his gloved hand when he'd spotted the disturbed ground.  Chris nodded and set out, a look of grim determination on his face.

          A loud crack from a rifle shattered the silence and the agents dropped to the ground.  They lay for a moment, setting the direction and distance, then rose and headed out at a fast trot.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          " _Now_ , squaw," the voice commanded.  "Crawl on outta there, nice an' slow."

          Vin knew his options were limited.  He could stay where he was and get shot when the man carried through with his threat, or he could try to escape out the far side of the boughs, but with his leg in the shape it was, he doubted he'd get too far before they shot him down.  The last option seemed the only reasonable one – do what they wanted and hope he could find an opening for escape.  As long as he was alive, there was hope.

          Not the three best choices he'd ever had, but not the worst, either.

          Being as careful as he could with his injured leg, Vin moved out from under the boughs on his hands and knees, the two men snickering as he did.

          "See, what'd I tell you, Daryl?  There's our squaw now.  He even knows when it's time to crawl, don't ya, Tanner?  Stand up, bounty hunter."

          _Guess that answers that one_.  Tanner fought his temper down and tried to stand, but the injury and the stiffness from a night spent on the ground made it impossible.

          Hank stepped forward and grabbed Vin's jacket, jerking him upright.

          Stifling a grunt of pain, Tanner planted his feet, but was unable to stop himself from swaying slightly as a bolt of molten agony shot up his calf and into his hip.

          "Looks like you were right, Hank," Daryl said.  "You got 'im a couple times."

          Hank nodded proudly.  "Should've put that leg wound higher, would've made it easier t' track him down."

          "You remember him, bounty hunter?" Daryl asked Vin.

          Tanner met the man's question with an icy blue stare that prompted the bigger man to take an involuntary step back.

          Hank noticed the look, too, but he was unwilling to turn back from the murder he'd been planning since he spotted Tanner riding along the ridge.  It was God's gift to him, and he planned to enjoy his revenge.  He had too many memories of pain and suffering at the hands of two Apache inmates at the State Prison in Casa Grande, Arizona, and it blinded him to the dangerous nature of the man they had cornered.

          "Come on, squaw," Hank sneered, using the same slur he had been given while in prison and the "property" of the two Indians who had abused him.  This was his chance to wipe those memories clean, and the ex-con wasn't about to squander it.  The fact that he'd ended up in prison after raping a fourteen-year-old Pima girl never crossed his mind.

          Vin silently sized up the two men.  The one called "Daryl" was a follower, and more than a little scared of Tanner and what he might do if given the chance.  "Hank" was a different story.  The hate burning in that man's eyes was greater than any Vin had seen since he was nearly beaten to death by his foster father.

          Hank was dangerous, and Vin knew he'd have to wait for the right opportunity before he tried to escape or he'd end up dead, and he knew if he got himself killed out here, Larabee would kill him all over again, if he could figure out a way to do it – and he might just do that.

          He couldn't remember Hank's last name, but he remembered the face, and the crime that had gone with it.

          "That way," Hank said, jerking the gun in the direction he wanted Tanner to take.

          Vin hesitated for a second, his mind on the knife hidden at the waist of his jeans.  If he could kill Hank, Daryl might be frightened enough to–

          Hank stepped forward and shoved the end of his rife barrel into Vin's stomach.  Tanner dropped to his knees, a wave of agony wrapping around his midsection as his injured ribs were squeezed by constricting muscles.  The ex-con flipped the rifle over in his hands, holding the weapon by the barrel, and slammed the stock into Tanner's wounded calf.

          Vin couldn't stop the cry that tore free of his throat as he folded into a ball and dropped into the wet snow.  The cold moisture soaked his jeans and jacket, and he fought from choking as chills and heaves struck at the same time.

          "Get him on his feet," Hank snapped at Daryl, enjoying Tanner's pain.  It didn't make up for the many times he'd ended up on his hands and knees while in prison, but it was a start.

          Daryl approached the fallen agent fearfully, but he reached down and grabbed two handfuls of jacket, pulling Vin to his feet.

          The look in Vin's eyes made the man jerk his hands away like he'd been burned.

          "Walk, _squaw_ , or so help me, I'll gut-shoot you right here," Hank growled.

          Vin turned and hobbled off in the direction the man had pointed, waiting for the opportunity to use his knife.  _An' when I do, it'll be with pleasure_ , he thought grimly.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The team found the tree where Vin had holed up for the night.  Chris disappeared under the boughs, emerging a short time later carrying Vin's backpack, which he handed to Nathan.

          "The first aid kit's been used," the medic announced after few moments.

          "The radio's in here, too," JD added, having taken the pack from the medic and rummaged through it, "but it's just static."

          "Over here," Josiah called.

          They joined the big man on the other side of the tree where blood was splattered across the white snow and the signs of a struggle were clearly evident.

          "Whoever shot him must've found him," Buck commented, studying the ground and wishing he could read it like he knew Tanner could.  He thought it was two men and Vin, but he wasn't sure.

          "They can't be more than ten or fifteen minutes ahead of us," JD offered.

          "Let's go," Larabee said, his stomach a solid knot of worry.  Vin was in danger, serious danger, and he wasn't at all sure they could reach the man in time.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin was wheezing by the time they reached a small cabin, and lost in a swirl of disorienting pain.  His entire leg felt like it was on fire, and his chest burned with almost the same intensity.  But it was the pounding in his head that blocked out everything but the need to survive.

          The ex-con watched Tanner struggling to stay on his feet.  The bounty hunter was a fighter, and Hank felt a tingle of triumph as he contemplated what it was going to feel like to destroy that will.  Reaching out, he grabbed Vin's hair, forcing the man's head back.  The move unbalanced the agent and Vin dropped to his knees in front of the man.

          Growling, refusing to submit, Tanner fought to stand again, but he was too weak to overcome the gloating man.

          "You're gonna die, squaw," Hank hissed at him.  "You're gonna die slow.  I'm gonna take my huntin' knife and gut ya, squaw.  You think you're tough?  You're gonna _beg_ me to shoot you before this is over."

          Hank laughed, but Daryl took a step away, not sure if he wanted to be a part of the man's plans.

          "Go get my knife," Hank snapped at him.  "Now, damn it!"

          Daryl stumbled back a few steps, then turned and retreated into the small cabin.

          Vin's mind was racing.  He had to act – now – while one of them was gone.

          Hank solved his first problem – getting him back on his feet – when the man knotted his hands into Vin's jacket and yanked him up.

          "Can't you talk, squaw?" he snapped.  "You dumb or something?"  He struck Tanner's face, once, twice, three times, determined to make the man speak.

          Movement at the corner of his eye stalled the retort on Vin's tongue.  It was Chris.  He knew that with absolute certainty, although, in his mind, he saw the man as a glowing cougar loping through the snow.  But Larabee was still too far away to help him.  He was on his own.  And he couldn't let this son-of-a-bitch kill him.  That would hurt Chris, and he'd be damned if he was going to let that happen.

          Then everything slipped away, lost in the pain of his injuries and the chaos of months' worth of working and living in the city, trying to make a place for himself with Larabee and the others, fighting his fears and memories and feelings.

          Daryl was back, handing Hank a hunting knife, his face white with fear.  The ex-con took the long blade, his lips curling off his teeth in a snarling smile.  Jerking Vin's jacket open, he let his gaze drop to Tanner's midsection as his arm drew back to strike.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The team moved steadily through the recent snowfall.  In the distance an angry voice rolled through the trees.  The words reached them, intact, on the still air, the content chilling Larabee more than the cold.

          "You're gonna die, squaw.  You're gonna die slow.  I'm gonna take my huntin' knife and gut ya, squaw.  You think you're tough?  You're gonna _beg_ me to shoot you before this is over…"  A laugh rolled out after the words.  "Go get my knife.  Now, damn it!"

          They pushed themselves to a run, struggling through the snow.

          Reaching the edge of a clearing where a small cabin sat, they froze, watching in horror as a large blond man handed a hunting knife to his companion.  The second man was holding Vin on his feet.  Tanner's face was bruised and bloody, his body swaying unsteadily.  The stranger yanked Vin's jacket open and his arm drew back, making it clear he intended to carry through on his threat.

          Chris was about to yell when Vin's voice slashed across the landscape – a war cry, as sharp and cold as breaking ice.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin saw the blade change hands.  With a cry, he lifted his injured leg and drove his foot into Hank's abdomen like he was trying to ram it right out the other side.

          Hank fell back, knife flying into the snow.

          Daryl took a hesitant step toward Vin, unsure what to do.

          Vin, turning on unsteady legs, growled as his gaze fixed on the other man's.  His hands snapping out, the former bounty hunter trapped the man's face with one hand, his elbow colliding with the opposite temple.  Daryl dropped, Vin collapsing into the snow beside him with a grunt.  Only the agent's weakened condition saved both ex-cons from being killed in the attack.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The team quickly had the two men under their weapons, Nathan dropping down next to Vin.

          "He's alive," the medic announced.

          "Thank God," Chris said with the breath he'd been holding.

          Buck pulled out the radio he was carrying, contacting Carmell, then he nodded to JD.

          The younger man removed a flare gun from a holster on his web belt and fired off a shot.  It soared into the cloudy sky and exploded, sending out a spray of red above them.

          Josiah and Ezra, with Chris's help, lifted Vin to a seated position, the medic checking Tanner's pulse before starting an examination.

          Five minutes later JD reloaded the flare gun and fired off a second round.  This time the distant sound of an approaching chopper filled the air.

          "JD, Ezra, stay with these two," Chris said, getting nods from the two men.  Then, with Josiah's help, he lifted the unconscious man.  Together they carried him to the center of the open terrain, holding him between them while they waited for the chopper to arrive.

          "Hang on, Vin," Chris told the younger man.  "You hear me?"

          Vin wanted to reply, but he didn't have the energy.

          As the Huey moved over to hover above them, the blast of the rotor blades lifted the snow up and sent it flying like a sudden blizzard.  One of the Search and Rescue medics accompanied an aluminum litter to the ground, waiting until Chris and Josiah maneuvered Vin inside the conveyance.  Nathan stepped up and hooked on a harness, riding up with Vin and the other medic.

          Once they were in the chopper, the other crewman tossed out ropes.  Chris, Josiah, and Buck stepped up and secured themselves so they could be winched up.

          Chris stared at the underside of the helicopter on the ride up, willing Vin to live.  Then hands were grabbing his arms and dragging him inside.  He crawled across the floor of the chopper, joining Nathan, who was trying, without success, to keep Tanner lying in the litter.

          Vin's eyes were wide, unseeing, his arms held up in a defensive position, his teeth showing in a feral snarl of anger or pain or maybe both.

          Larabee reached out and grabbed one of Tanner's arms.  How the man had even managed to sit up was a complete mystery to the blond.  "Vin," he snapped, afraid that Tanner might injure himself further, or one of them, in his confusion.  "Vin, look at me!"

          It took a moment for the words to penetrate, but then the shaggy head turned and blue eyes locked on green.  Confusion and fight were replaced by recognition.  "Chris?" he rasped.

          "Vin, lie down," Larabee said.  "You're safe now.  Let Nate and the medic help you."

          The focus in the man's blue eyes faded and Vin blinked, his brow wrinkling.  "Chris?  What the hell 're y' doin' here?" he slurred.

          "Looking for you," Chris replied, getting hold of the man's shoulders and trying to press him back onto the litter, unsure if Vin could even hear him over the noise.  Feeling the man's strength beginning to ebb even as he resisted lying down, Chris scooted closer, letting Vin's shoulder lean against his own.  A violent shiver passed through the smaller man's body and his teeth began to chatter noisily.

          Buck joined them, holding out a wool blanket.  Chris leaned Vin forward and started to wrap the cloth around his shoulders, only to be stopped by Nathan.

          "No," Jackson said.  "His clothes are too wet."

          "What?" Chris asked the medic.

          Buck maneuvered in behind Chris, speaking in his ear to overcome the noise even as he settled a helmet on Larabee's head so he had access to the mike inside it.  "Nate says he's too wet."

          "We have to get those clothes off him, get him warmed up before he goes hypothermic," Nathan said when Chris could hear him.

          The Search and Rescue medic nodded.  "We'll be in Rollinsville in twenty minutes, but this won't wait."

          Larabee nodded his understanding, he and Buck going to work, removing Vin's jacket, flannel shirt, and thermal undershirt while Nathan used the knife he found on Tanner's belt to cut the man's wet jeans off.

          Vin tried to help, but he was shaking too much to coordinate his movements and he finally gave up, allowing the others to do the work for him.  Watching Chris through slitted eyes, he noted the concern on the man's face and wished he had the energy to tell him not to worry.  He wasn't going to die.  He'd never hurt him like that…

          Buck gasped when he saw the large purple bruise on Vin's ribcage.  "Damn, Junior, that had to _hurt!_ "  The various scars that were also revealed made them all acutely aware of the man's uncertain past.

          Nathan grunted, saying, "Looks like you might have cracked a few ribs there, Vin."  The sound of chattering teeth was his only reply.

          His wet clothes off, Vin shivered more even as they wrapped the wool blanket tightly around him.  Buck and Chris stripped off their parkas, draping them over Vin's chest and his back, then Larabee moved in behind him, pulling the shaking man back against his chest and wrapping his arms around him, careful not to put too much pressure on the injured ribs.

          Josiah and Nathan busied themselves rubbing down Vin's legs beneath the blankets, Buck working on the man's arms, all of them using friction to warm his extremities.  Vin gasped and yelped when one of them got too close to the bullet wound.

          "Hang in there," Chris said into Tanner's ear.  "We've come too far to lose you now, you hear me?  Besides, we're just getting used to having you around."

          Tanner grunted in reply.  He could hear the fear in Larabee's voice and understood all too well what the man wasn't saying.

          "How does he do it?" Nathan asked, shaking his head, although only Buck, who was kneeling next to him, was able to hear him since he'd been too busy to put on one of the helmets.

          "What?"

          "Where does he find the strength?"  He knew the kind of pain the man must be in, and it must have been terrible, being out here alone all night…

          "Hell, Nate," Buck said seriously, "when you've walked through hell as many times as he has, there isn't much left that'll kill a man."

          Nathan looked at Vin, realizing that he had walked through a few hells of his own.  He nodded.  "Sometimes I forget he's older than he looks."

          Buck reached out and squeezed Jackson's shoulder.  "Don't you worry; it's just a little exposure, a few ribs, and a bullet hole in his leg.  He'll be back to work by the time the holidays are over.  You watch."

          Nathan nodded and silently prayed the ladies' man was right as he watched Vin slip back into unconsciousness.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**A short while later**

**11:10 a.m.**

 

          A chopper landing near the sheriff's station in Rollinsville caused quite a stir in the small community.  People came out of stores and their homes, lining the street as Josiah and Chris jumped out of the Huey first.

          While Josiah arranged for the pilot to return and pick up the two men and Ezra and JD, Chris concentrated on finding the sheriff.  He flashed his ID and gave the man a hasty explanation for their unconventional landing site.

          Nathan and Buck carried the litter off with the Search and Rescue crew's help, Vin unconscious.  Jackson demanded the location of the hospital.

          The sheriff blinked, not knowing who to respond to first.  ATF agents?  Murderers?  Hospitals?

          Buck saved him the trouble, grabbing a deputy and piling back into the chopper, Carmell lifting off before the sheriff could order his man to go along.

          Chris reached out and grabbed the lawman's arm.  "He asked you where the hospital is!"

          "We don't have a hospital – too small," he replied, still shaken by the sudden invasion of his peace and quiet.

          "What about a doctor?" Nathan asked, his fear beginning to climb.

          The sheriff pointed to a small building on the opposite corner.  "That's the clinic, but Dr. Gables is down in Boulder – took a little girl down to have her tonsils out.  He won't be back until later today, maybe tomorrow, depending on the weather."

          "What do you do if someone gets hurt?" Nathan stormed, unwilling to believe they might lose Vin to a lack of medical aid.

          The sheriff turned to his deputy.  "Carl, go get Mrs. Linzey and bring her to the clinic.  I'll go open it up."  He turned back to the others.  "Come on, let's get your man inside.  Christine's a nurse; a good one.  She'll help you.  Maybe we can get Dr. Gables back, too."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Once inside the clinic, Nathan took over.  Having put himself through college as an EMT, his expertise was the closest thing to a doctor's they had for the moment.  Jackson waited while Josiah rubbed the examination table down with alcohol, then draped it with a sterile sheet from the supply cabinet.  After stripping Vin's wool blanket off, he and Chris settled the man on the table, covering him with fresh blankets that Josiah pulled off the four beds in the small clinic ward.

          Nathan was taking Vin's blood pressure when the door swung open to admit a woman in her late-fifties.  She gave the collection of worried faces a once-over as she walked to the exam table.  Looking down at Tanner, she frowned at the man's ashen complexion.

          "Who's who?" she asked, glancing around at the others as she stepped over and began to wash her hands at the sink.

          "Nathan Jackson," the medic introduced himself.  "Chris Larabee and Josiah Sanchez.  We're ATF out of Denver."

          She looked down at Vin, asking, "Friend or foe?"

          "Friend," Josiah replied.  "He's one of our team."

          Removing a set of keys from her pocket, Christine fumbled for one in particular, and then handed it to the big profiler.  "There's a storage closet in the back with a couple of space heaters.  Go bring them in here."

          Josiah nodded and disappeared.

          "What's his BP?" she asked the medic.

          "Ninety-five over sixty," Nathan said.  "Pulse is one-ten and thready.  Respiration's twenty and shallow."

          The woman nodded, absently tucking a wayward strand of sliver-streaked auburn hair behind her ear.  Chris couldn't help smiling thinly.  She looked like the archetype for gingerbread-baking, sweet-tempered grandmothers.

          Reaching under the blankets, she found Vin's arm and pulled out his hand to check his nail beds.  With a satisfied nod she returned his arm to the warmth under the blankets.

          Josiah returned with the heaters and she directed him to set the taller one at the foot of the table, and to slide the long, low model under it.  He did, turning them on once they were in place and plugged in.

          Vin's shivering dropped off quickly, but he continued to tremble occasionally under the blankets, although, as the heaters continued to warm the air, that too finally subsided.

          With a short series of directions, Mrs. Linzey had Nathan establish a double IV.  That done, she nodded to the medic to help her as she checked the graze on Tanner's head, then folded back the blankets to start at the man's neck and begin a thorough examination from the top down.  When she finished, she headed for one of the cabinets.

          "First we get the easy ones cleaned up, then we tackle the hard ones," she announced.

          "What can we do?" Chris asked softly, hating the feeling that he was merely in the way.

          The older woman glanced over her shoulder.  "Why don't one of you go across the street to Marylee's and get us all some coffee."

          Josiah looked at Larabee, saying, "You stay."

          Chris nodded and the big man headed out of the clinic.

          "And you two can help me," she concluded, speaking to Nathan and Chris.  "My arthritis won't let me work like I used to, but it can't take the knowledge away, so I'll tell you what to do, and you'll do it – deal?"

          The two agents nodded and Chris reevaluated his first impression of the woman.  She might look like a kindly grandmother, but she acted and sounded more like a drill instructor and he wondered if she'd ever served in the military.

          Removing a bottle of antiseptic, she handed it to Chris.  "You clean that scalp wound, then we'll wrap it up.  He might have a mild concussion, so go grab another pillow and stick it under his head to get it elevated a little more."

          She leveled her gaze on Nathan, green eyes softening slightly.  "You can move the portable x-ray over here for me so we can take a look at his skull and those ribs, make sure nothing's broken…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Well, there's a piece of good news," the woman said, smiling at the developed x-rays.  "No skull fractures and no broken ribs, either – lucky man."

          "Uh, excuse me, Mrs. Linzey, is it?" Larabee asked her.

          "Yes, but why don't you call me Christine."

          Chris smiled.  "All right, Christine.  I'm done here."

          She walked over to Vin and helped Chris as he covered the graze and wrapped more than enough gauze around it to keep the dressing in place.

          Josiah knocked on the door, then stepped inside to drop off the coffee, explaining that he was going to go see the sheriff and wait for the others to get back.

          Christine accepted one of the cups and took a sip.  "Ah, that hits the spot.  Now, on to the rest, gentlemen."

          Returning to the unconscious man, she directed Nathan to lift the blankets off Vin's legs.  She probed the swollen ankle first.  "Nathan, bring the x-ray over here and get a picture of the ankle as it is now.  I'm almost sure it's just a nasty sprain, but there's no use taking any chances.  Chris, I'll need your help," she told Larabee.

          While Jackson set up and took the x-ray, Mrs. Linzey led Chris to the back room.  She pointed to a surgical bundle on one shelf in the opened closet.  "Take that, and wheel that cart out while you're at it."

          "Yes, ma'am," he said.

          The old woman chuckled.  "I haven't heard _that_ in a few years."

          "Excuse me?"

          "'Ma'am.'  I was an Army nurse, started back in Vietnam, when I was too young to know better, and I stuck with it."

          Larabee smiled.  "Have to admit I was wondering if you were ex-military."

          "Oh?"

          "Most of us were in the service at one time or another.  Let's just say that the way you took control reminded me a little of a few DIs I've met.  A lot, actually."

          She smiled, returning to the grandmother image.  "I see.  Well, I'll take that as a compliment," she said as they walked the equipment back to the treatment room.

          "Sounds like you've had an impressive career," Larabee said as they rejoined Nathan, who was developing the ankle x-ray.

          "Yes, I guess I did.  I retired a full colonel several years ago, married an old high school sweetheart – Milton Willis – who was a widower, and we've had ourselves a quiet retirement here."

          "We would've preferred not to interrupt your holidays like this," Chris told her.

          "The ankle looks good," Nathan announced, holding up the film.

          She looked at the X-ray.  "True enough.  We'll immobilize it, and then there's just one more thing left to do."

          "The bullet," the medic agreed, nodding.

          "It has to come out, and we need to irrigate the wound to reduce the infection.  My fingers aren't up to that kind of work, I'm afraid."  She looked Nathan squarely in the eye.  "Are you up to it, son?"

          He nodded.  "I'm not a doctor, but I've patched these guys up enough times to stay in pretty good practice."

          Nancy rested a hand on Jackson's shoulder.  "Why did I think you might say that?"

          Nathan grinned back at her.

          Handing the medic a cup of coffee, she motioned to him to drink it.  "I know this won't be easy.  It never is when it's someone we care about, but you'll do just fine.  So, drink up, get warm, and then we'll get that leg cleaned up.  We don't want the infection to get too far ahead of us."

          "Yes, ma'am."

          Emma smiled and patted his shoulder again.  "Chris, we'll need your help as well."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          It took a half-hour to prepare and twenty minutes to complete the procedure, and Chris was more than thrilled when the surgery was finally over.  While Nathan had been able to focus on the task at hand, detaching his work from the body he was doing it on, Larabee hadn't been so lucky.  He had been put to use holding Vin still while Nathan worked, Mrs. Spender helping Jackson by keeping the area free of blood and delivering calm, straightforward instructions each step of the way.

          Only two sounds filled the room while they worked – Tanner's breathing and the old woman's steady voice.  Vin awoke almost as soon as Nathan began, but was able to hold still for the most part, thanks to a local anesthetic that deadened the pain.  Still, natural reflexes still gave Chris plenty to do, and he exerted a great deal of energy to keep Vin as immobile as the old nurse demanded.

          When they were finished, Nancy wiped the sweat from Vin's face and waited for Nathan to tell her the man's new vital signs.

          "BP is one-ten over ninety, pulse one-hundred, but stronger, and respiration's twenty-four."  He looked down at Vin, who had opened his eyes.  "You hang in there, Vin.  You're going to be just fine."  Then he looked over at Chris and said, "If you don't mind, I'd like to grab a bite to eat.  I hate to admit it, but I'm starving and I'm starting to feel a little shaky."

          "Go ahead," Chris told him with a grateful, if thin, smile.

          Vin reached up, catching the medic's arm before Nathan could turn away.  "Thanks, Nate," he breathed airily.

          Jackson grinned down at him.  Vin was going to be fine, thank God.  "You're welcome.  Just wait 'til you see how I stitched my initials into your leg.  It's a real work of art.  The others are going to be jealous."

          Vin blinked, looking up at Nathan.  "Ah hell, Nate, why'd y' go an' do somethin' like that?"

          "It's a reminder," Nathan said sternly, but the twinkle in his eyes gave his real feelings away, "so you'll stay out of trouble the next time."

          "Antibiotics will fight the infection, and the electrolytes will help you feel better," Christine told the injured man.  "I'll have the Sheriff contact Dr. Gables so he can bring some more blood back from Boulder.  The rest is up to you, son," she told him.  She looked over at Chris, adding, "I don't think this will slow him down too much."

          "Colonel Linzey?" Vin whispered softly, his eyes drooping.

She looked down at him, surprised, then she smiled and laughed softly.  "Ah, _now_ I remember…"

          "What?" Chris asked her as Nathan closed the door behind him.

          Vin's eyes fell closed as she stared down at him, remembering.  "Corporal Tanner," she said softly, then reached out and patted his cheek.  "Get some rest, dear."

          "Do you know Vin?" Chris asked her, surprised.

          "I met him several years ago, not long before I retired.  But he was in the Army then, not the ATF."

          "Airborne Rangers," Chris said, nodding.

          The old woman nodded.  "That's right.  He was just back from a covert operation…"  Her voice dropped slightly as she was caught up in the memories.  "It was close to Christmas then, too, as I recall, and we'd seen a lot of activity."  She walked over to the only chair in the room and sat down, taking a sip of her now-cold coffee.

          Chris slid down to sit on the floor, his back pressed up against the cabinets.

          "Our field hospital had been going straight for close to twenty-four hours.  We managed to save most of them, but thanks to budget cutbacks and retention issues, there weren't enough nurses to sit with the dying _and_ work on the ones we could save."

          She set her cup aside and gave Chris a shaky smile.  "For a few hours it felt like I was back in Vietnam again.  That was the worst…"

          Larabee glanced over at the sleeping man, whishing he knew more about Vin's past.  He knew a lot of it had probably been pretty bad, and maybe Vin preferred to just put it all behind him, but he couldn't help feeling that maybe it was just that he still didn't trust them enough to share it with them.  He looked over at the older woman when she began to speak again.

          "We got word that two squads had been caught in an ambush and they were bringing them to us.  By the time they arrived, four were already dead.  We looked the others over and two went in to wait for the next available surgeon; the rest waited for a nurse since they were ambulatory.  But there were two others who were past our ability to help… and one last young man.  I asked him if he was hurt and he shook his head.  He was trying so hard to be brave, but I could see the fear in his eyes."

          "Vin?" Chris asked softly, glancing from the old woman to the sleeping man.

          She nodded.  "He followed me straight into the triage tent.  I tried to throw him out, but he said he had to see one of the men from his unit.  He knew why those last two hadn't been take in and, to be honest, I was just too tired to argue with him.

          "He went over to his squad members and sat with them, talking to them, until they were gone.  He held their hands and listened to what they wanted him to write to their parents or wives, and I think he probably carried out those requests."

          "I'm sure he did," Chris said softly.  Vin was as loyal as they came, once he let someone into his heart.  It was getting inside that seemed to be the trick.  How he'd managed it so easily, he wasn't sure, but he knew he had.

          "After they died, he stayed.  We were getting another wave of wounded in and everyone was dead on their feet, but he never faltered.  When I didn't have the energy to stand any longer, he helped me to a chair and found me some coffee, somehow.

          "He looked so damn young… so very, very damn young.  A child, really, and I remember watching him, wanting to cry because no one that young should have to do or see the kinds of things he was, but I couldn't, I just couldn't.  It was selfish, I know, but I was so relieved that I wasn't alone at that moment I just couldn't cry.  That's when I knew it was time to start thinking about retirement."

          Christine pushed a single tear off her daintily-wrinkled cheek.  "It wasn't until it was over that I found out he'd taken a piece of shrapnel to the lower back, just above his hip.  He must have been in agony, but he never said a word, never made a move that gave away his injury.  We never would've known about it at all if he hadn't passed out in the mess tent."

          Chris shook his head and grinned.  "That sounds like Vin all right.  I can see why you remembered him," he added, his tone affectionate.

          "A man like that is hard to forget," she agreed.  "Oh, but you've only heard half the story."

          She fell silent when a knock sounded on the door and Josiah leaned in, announcing, "Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you could use some fresh coffee."  He entered and handed over the two cups, saying to Chris, "The others are back with the bastards who did this.  Carmell had to take off; there's a front coming in."

          "Thanks," Chris said, and when he saw the older man looking worriedly at Vin he added, "He's doing fine.  Tell the others he'll be fine.  Nathan's getting a bite to eat; why don't the rest of you do the same."

          Josiah nodded and left.

          "What happened next?" Chris asked her when they were alone again.

          "He had a two-day stay with us that first time, then returned to his unit.  I never expected to see him again, but I did, just about a year later, the same year I retired.

          "We received word that a Ranger unit had gotten pinned down coming back from a mission.  They were taking heavy fire and others were going in to pull them out.

          "We didn't know exactly what to expect, so we did what we always did, and prepared for the worst.  My people were ready when they arrived.  None of us could believe our eyes when we saw those boys climbing off the choppers under their own power.  We knew we were watching a miracle, and the soldiers looked as surprised about it as we did.  I kept hearing:  'He really did it,' or 'He got us out, just like he said he would.'

          "You have to understand, it really was a miracle.  Oh, they had injuries, but they were ambulatory.  I counted seventeen, which left three unaccounted for.

          "At first I thought they must be KIAs still in the chopper, but then two of our medics pulled out a man, laid him on a gurney, and rolled him to the surgery.  That left two, and that's when I saw my scrappy little corporal again."

          Christine stood and walked over to Vin.  She felt his cheek for fever, but his skin was still cool.  She smiled down at the sleeping man, then returned to her seat, took a sip of the fresh coffee, and continued.  "He was holding a boy who couldn't have been a day over eighteen.  He and the medics maneuvered the boy onto a second gurney, but he didn't move away.  I didn't think much of it at first.  They headed for the surgery and I yelled at him to get out of the way so my people could work.

          "The look I saw in his eyes is something I've never forgotten.  That injured boy was just like the ones he'd sat with before – same age, same innocence and potential wasted…"

          She shook her head and took another sip.  "In the attack, a mortar had torn this boy's throat open, severed the vein.  He had reached in and was holding the vein closed, which was all that had kept the boy from bleeding to death.  If he'd let go when I yelled at him, that child would've died on the gurney.

          "I think he thought I was going to classify the boy as 'no-hope,' and the pain in his eyes shook me like an earthquake.  And, to be honest, I might've.  But we went into surgery and when they got a clamp on the vein I took him out.  He actually thanked me for giving the boy a chance."  She laughed sadly, shaking her head.  " _He_ gave that boy a chance, but, sadly, it wasn't enough.  There was brain damage and Private Adam Silverstein died on the table, but it wasn't because he'd bled to death."

          "How did Vin take the news?" Chris asked her, already knowing the answer.

          "I found him in our little makeshift chapel.  I think he knew Private Silverstein was going to die.  He told me Adam was Jewish and asked me if his God would mind if he said a prayer for him.  I said no, that I didn't think God minded, and that seemed to satisfy him.  He said his prayer, saluted my eagles, and walked out.  That was the last time I saw him… until today.  It looks like he's done well for himself."

          Chris nodded.  "He's found his place."

          "Good," the older woman replied, "we all need someplace to belong, especially this time of year…  Someone with a heart like his…  Is he married?"

          Chris smiled at that.  What was it about older women and Vin?  He'd managed to wrap Nettie around his little finger, and Colonel Linzey as well from the looks of it.  "No, he isn't married."

          "Someone special?"

          Chris shook his head, frowning slightly.  He'd never stopped to think about the fact that Vin didn't have anyone special in his life, no one like Rain for Nathan or Casey for JD.  Hell, Ezra knew how Inez felt about him, even if he wasn't ready to do anything about it yet…  But not Vin…  Why was that?

          Although it wasn't as if Vin seemed unhappy.  He didn't mope the way Josiah did sometimes.  And he didn't complain the way Buck did if he couldn't find a date for Friday night.  Vin seemed content with his life just the way it was.  Hell, most weekends he spent his time out at the ranch.  The others had even started calling the guest room, Vin's room…

          A chill snaked its way down Larabee's back.  Something had changed recently.  Vin had stopped coming out almost every weekend.  He'd pulled back, at work and off the clock.  Nothing drastic, but now, thinking back about it, he could see the changes.  But he knew for a fact Tanner wasn't seeing anybody.

          So what was going on?

          If he really thought about it, he could almost trace it back to that night at Thanksgiving… that Saturday night after the holiday.  Vin had been staying out at the ranch, helping him clean up after the big meal they'd had on Thursday afternoon.

          He could clearly remember that Saturday night, because it was one of the very few times Vin had talked about his past.  He'd told him just a little about where he'd grown up with his mother…  It had been enough to spark the hunt he'd gone on a couple of weeks later.  The successful hunt that had netted him Vin's Christmas present for this year.

          But after that night Vin had pulled away from them, from him, especially.  And he just couldn't figure out why…  But he was going to ask him about it, just as soon as the man was back on his feet again.

          And he wasn't going to take no for an answer, and he wasn't going to let Vin change the subject, which he was a master at doing whenever things got too personal.

          Chris settled back, his eyes feeling heavy.  In the back of his mind he could feel a realization beginning to form.  It was a strange feeling for a man who didn't usually spend much time thinking deeply about too much lest he uncover some painful memory that would have him wanting to climb into a bottle, although that reaction had basically faded away after Vin joined the team.

          Then it hit him:  Vin was happiest when he was with him.

          And what the hell did that mean?

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Several hours later**

**4:45 p.m.**

 

          Dr. Gables still looked slightly green from the chopper ride as he checked the drip on Vin's IV, and then stepped out of the treatment room to talk to the people waiting for him.

          "It looks like he's going to be fine.  I knew Christine would be able to handle this, and I really didn't want to leave Abby Newburn until I was sure she wasn't going to have any respiratory problems.  Operations on asthmatics like her can get tricky sometimes"

          "When can we take him home?" Chris asked, cutting the man off.

          "Oh, tomorrow morning, I'd say.  He should see his own doctor as soon as possible, and he'll need to stay on antibiotics for another ten days."

          Buck smiled and clapped Larabee on the back.  "See, he'll be home for Christmas, didn't I tell you?"

          "Best medicine in the world," Mrs. Linzey said.  "You boys take good care of him, or I'll come down there and give you what for."

          "Don't worry, ma'am, we will," Nathan assured her.  "Whether or not he appreciates it."

          "Oh, and he wanted to see someone named Chris?" the doctor added.

          Larabee stepped forward.  "That's me."

          "Keep it to ten minutes, if you would.  I'd like him to get as much rest as possible before he leaves."

          Larabee nodded and slipped into the room.  Emerging a few minutes later he wore a half-suppressed smile on his face.

          "What is it?" Buck asked him.

          "Vin just asked me for a favor."

          "A favor?" JD questioned.

          "Yeah… go find a bagful of pine cones."

          The agents burst into laughter.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Five Days Later, Christmas Eve Day**

**4:25 p.m.**

 

          Vin sat in the office, his leg elevated on a small stool JD had managed to locate somewhere in the building.  He had just finished his final report on the incident for Travis and, glancing up at the clock, he saw it was nearly time to leave for Larabee's.

          A soft knock on the corner of his desktop interrupted his latest battle with the computer.  "What?" he snapped, wishing he didn't feel so damned tired or snappish.

          JD was standing next to him.

          His voice immediately softened.  "Sorry, kid.  What can I do for ya?"

          "It's almost time to go," JD started, obviously trying to work up to something more important.

          Vin nodded.  "Yeah?" he said, looking back at the computer and beginning to log out and shut it down.

          JD chewed his lip for a moment before he asked, "Vin, are you mad at us?"

          Tanner sat back, startled by the question.

          Buck, on his way out of the cantina to drive Vin and JD out to Chris' for dinner – giving Larabee time to pick up one of the sniper's last gifts – stopped short of the door when he heard JD's question.

          "JD, what the hell are y' talkin' about?" came Vin's troubled reply.

          JD sank down into the chair across the desk from Tanner.

          Buck weighed his ethical duty to leave the pair to speak in private against the need to understand better what had been bothering Vin since they had brought him home from Rollinsville.  He stayed put to listen.

          "Why would y' think 'm mad at ya?" Tanner asked gently.

          "Not at me… not exactly," JD replied, his pent-up frustration already spent.  Now he was a little frightened.  "Not just at me, anyway, at all of us."

          "I don't understand," Tanner said flatly.

          Dunne sighed.  "Ever since you got back, you've been… quiet, kind of withdrawn, even when you were out at Chris' ranch, working on the tree and stuff…"

          Vin looked taken aback.  "Uh, I guess I've just been doin' a lot of thinkin'," he explained, but it sounded lame, even to his own ears.  He sighed heavily.  "Ah hell, JD, this time a' year has always been tough for me.  I guess I've been lettin' it get t' me more 'n usual, an' I really have been tryin' t' think it all through."

          "So that's it, you've just been… thinking?"

          Vin cleared his throat.  It was obvious to Buck that he was holding something back and he wondered if Tanner would open up and tell JD what it was.  The kid was the closest to Vin in age, so maybe some kind of peer-bonding was what the man needed.

          "It's easier for me t' sort things out when 'm alone, so I guess that's why I ain't been such good company.  But I ain't mad at any of ya, got no reason to be."

          Okay, that was an honest answer, but it still didn't tell him anything.  _Press him, JD_ , Buck encouraged, crossing his fingers that the kid's natural curiosity wouldn't fail this time.

          "Do you mind me asking what've you been thinkin' about?" Dunne questioned, and Buck silently cheered youthful curiosity.

          Vin paused, clearly debating how much he wanted say.  "This time 'a year… what happened up on the mountain…  It all brought back a lot 'a memories…"  He stopped, searching for the right words.  "Made me do a lot 'a thinkin' about the past… about who I am, and if I'm the right man for the job here."

          Buck almost gave himself away with a sharp intake of breath, but he was saved by JD's near shout.  "What?  Vin, you're the best sniper I've ever seen!"

          Wilmington heard Vin rise and knew the sharpshooter had taken up a position leaning back against the edge of his desk, looking down at JD, his arms probably folded over his chest.

          "Don't worry, I'm not leavin'," he said.

          _Thank God for that_ , Buck replied silently.  Why had it even crossed Vin's mind at all?  _I am definitely going to have a talk with him about this_.

          "Y' see," Vin said softly, using what the ladies' man had come to think of as Tanner's storyteller's voice, "while I was up on that mountain, waitin' for y' t' come get me, I saw this sign…"

          "Sign?" JD echoed.

          _Good, JD, keep it up_ , Buck silently instructed the younger man.

          "Yeah, uh, I know it sounds kinda weird, but the Indians believe that every animal carries in its spirit a certain kind of power.  They call it their medicine.  I got a visit from Deer."

          "A real deer?"

          _Exactly my question_.

          "Yeah, a doe," Vin replied.  "I think she gave my position away to Hank and his friend."

          "What kind of, uh, medicine does a deer have?" JD asked, the confusion in his voice echoing that in Wilmington's mind.

          "Gentleness…  Unconditional love."

          JD shifted, grappling with the still-confusing information.  "And seeing a deer up there made what you've been thinking about… harder?"

          _Yeah, Vin, help us out here, would ya?_

          Tanner chuckled softly, the warm, rich sound startling the ladies' man; he heard it so rarely.

          "No, I've just been tryin' t' decide what she was tryin' t' teach me."

          "Did you figure it out?"

          "Don't know, I think so…"  He trailed off.

          Buck decided it was time to interrupt before any of the others arrived, wondering why it was taking him so long to bring Tanner down to the garage and head out for dinner.  He did _not_ want to get caught eavesdropping.  But then Tanner started speaking again.

          "All m' life, the people I've cared 'bout most have… been taken away from me – m' mother, grandfather… the guys in m' Ranger unit.  I think I was gettin' scared that I was startin' t' care too much for y'all, so I was gonna lose ya…  I know it don't make a lot of sense, but I guess it comes down t' bein' scared."

          JD nodded.  "No, I get what you mean, Vin.  I mean, I feel like that too, sometimes, but I haven't lost as many people as you have.  But sometimes it scares me when I think about someone on the team getting hurt, or killed, but I think the friendships we have now are better than being alone, don't you?"

          "Yeah, I do.  Just took a mountain comin' down on me t' see it."

          _Me, too_ , Buck thought, then, taking a deep breath, he stepped into the room, stopped, and stretched.  "Man, I can't believe I fell asleep in there," he complained.

          "You're lucky you woke up," JD said.  "We're gonna be late as it is."

          Buck checked his watch.  "Oh damn."  He glanced at Vin.  "You're comin' with us to Chris', right?"

          JD was already up, handing Vin the cane he was supposed to use while his leg healed.

          "Yep," Tanner replied, turning and laying the cane on his desk before hobbling off toward the door.

          "Good," Buck said, taking a couple of steps to catch up with the man.  He reached out, resting his hand on Vin's back as they kept walking.  "It's Christmas Eve and a family should be together."

          Vin offered him a thin smile and nodded.  "Yep."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Later that evening**

**6:10 p.m.**

 

          The centerpiece of dinner was Josiah's special lamb recipe, cooked in beer, and it was a huge success.

          When he first arrived, Vin had been quiet, as usual of late, but, as the meal wore on, he seemed to relax – more than he had in several weeks – as if he really had found some inner peace at last.

          Chris watched the man carefully as they rose from the table, each carrying a cup of coffee with them.  They retired to the elaborately decorated living room.  Vin was still limping, but it wasn't as bad as it had been the last couple of days.

          Light from the blaze burning in the fireplace and the decorated Christmas tree cast the only illumination in the large room.  Vin took a seat on the floor in front of the fireplace, resting his injured leg where the heat could help ease away some of the stiffness.

          Chris took a seat in the recliner closest to the sniper, while JD and Buck flopped down at the two ends of one couch, Josiah and Nathan doing the same on the second sofa.  Ezra took the other recliner, immediately leaning back and lifting the footrest so he could stretch out.

          "That was an absolutely wonderful feast, Mr. Sanchez," Ezra complimented the profiler.

          "That's for sure," Nathan agreed, patting his belly.

          "Thank you, thank you," Josiah said, nodding and smiling benevolently at the group with his best fatherly expression.  He bent over and picked up an old, well-worn case he had left leaning up against the end of the couch.  From it he took a worn autoharp.  Everyone, including Vin, leaned forward slightly in anticipation.

          "I thought it might be nice if we sang a few Christmas carols before handing out an Eve present.  Then we can all go off to our beds and wait for good ol' Saint Nick to pay us a visit."

          "Awesome," JD enthused, causing the others to laugh.  "What?" he asked, unsure if he should be mad or not.

          "Nothing, kid," Buck said, leaning over to giving JD's leg a slap.  "We just enjoy remembering when we were that excited about Christmas."

          "That's right," Nathan agreed.  "It was like magic."

          "Still is, if you have any spirit," Dunne defended.

          Chris saw the fleeting pain cross Vin's face and knew his memories might not be so magical.  But he had every intention of making this Christmas one to remember.  "What did you have in mind, Josiah?" he asked, knowing the big man's deep voice would cover the limitations the rest of them.

          Sanchez leaned back and began strumming the instrument softly.

          " _Noel_ , right?" Buck guessed, grinning proudly.

          Josiah nodded and began to play in earnest, the others' voices rising to join his as they worked their way through the song and then the twelve days of Christmas.  They blessed the merry gentlemen, followed the three kings, and jingled bells for over an hour.  After the first few songs, each found his voice, and the music grew rich and well-textured.

          Vin remained silent, but he listened with a smile in his eyes.  The impromptu concert was informative and he discovered that Nathan and Chris were both mid-range baritones, and that Ezra's clear tenor added an occasional ad-libbed note to the mix.  Buck and JD paralleled each other in clear tenor tones, and Josiah, no surprise, was a baritone.

          A myriad of suggestions flew from the group but they never stumped Josiah's fingers, the older man moving smoothly from one song to the next.

          Ezra grinned broadly as he suggested, " _Deck the Halls_ if you would, Mr. Sanchez."

          The former priest nodded but, before he could begin, Vin pushed himself to his feet, saying, "Excuse me."

          They all watched him go, the room falling into a tight silence.

          "What do you think's wrong?" JD whispered.

          "He'll be back," Chris said, hoping his words sounded more sure than he actually felt.

          Josiah strummed the strings of the instrument and they began the song, although it wasn't nearly as full of gusto as the others had been.

          Chris sang along, unsure if he was mad or worried, but both emotions faded when the song ended and Vin stepped back into the living room carrying a well-worn guitar case.  Larabee smiled.  He had completely forgotten about the instrument.  Vin had brought it over one night not long after he joined the team, explaining that he didn't feel comfortable leaving it at his apartment, which was in a less than stellar section of town.  Chris had invited him to store it in the guest room closet, and it had remained there ever since.  He hadn't even been sure Vin knew how to play the thing.

          No one spoke as Vin hobbled back to the fireplace, sat down and then opened the case and pulled the instrument into his lap.

          "You play the guitar?" JD asked, his voice full of surprise.

          "Ain't done it much in a while, so y'all will have t' bear with me."

          "Well, well, well," Buck said softly, catching Chris' gaze.  He winked.

          Larabee grinned back at the ladies' man.  Their sniper was full of surprises.  "What do you want to try?" Chris asked him.

          Vin looked up at Josiah.  "D' ya know _I Will Lead You Home_?" he asked the older man.

          Josiah thought for a moment, his forehead wrinkling, then he flashed a toothy smile at Tanner and started to strum the autoharp.  The deeper tones of the guitar joined in and, after a few stumbles, smoothed out into a steady river of sound.

          The older man began to sing, the others listening to the unfamiliar words that they still found resonated deeply within them.

 

                   _Are you far away from home, this dark and lonely night_

_Tell me what best would help, to ease your mind_

_Someone to give direction for this unfamiliar road_

_Or one who says, "Follow me, and I will lead you home."_

_How beautiful, how precious_

_The Savior of old_

_To love so completely the loneliest soul_

_How gently, how tenderly_

_He says to one and all_

_"Child you can follow me,_

_And I will lead you home._

_Trust Me, and follow Me,_

_And I will lead you home." **[2]**_

 

          When they finished, Vin smiled.  "You do it real nice, J'siah."

          "That was quite lovely," Ezra agreed softly, afraid to break the mood that had settled over them like spun glass.

          "Yeah, really nice," JD agreed, nodding.

          "Where'd you learn that one, Vin?" Nathan asked the man.

          The sniper cleared his throat, a blush climbing up to his cheeks from under his shirt.  "I picked up a couple of CDs after Halloween, and it was on one of 'em is all."

          "Something else you'd like to do?" Josiah asked the sniper.

          Vin strummed the first few chords of a song, then began to sing, his voice a slightly hesitant top-range baritone.  A few moments later, Josiah joined him.

 

                   _The garment of life be it tattered or torn,_

_The cloak of a soldier is weathered and worn,_

_But what child was this that was poverty born,_

_The peace of Christmas day._

_The branch that bears the bright holly,_

_The dove that rests in yonder tree,_

_The light that shines for all to see,_

_The peace of Christmas day._

_A hope that has slumbered for two thousand years,_

_A promise that silenced a thousand fears,_

_A faith that has trammeled an ocean of tears,_

_The peace of Christmas day._

_The branch that bears the bright holly,_

_The dove that rests in yonder tree,_

_The light that shines for all to see,_

_The peace of Christmas day._

_Add all the grief a people may bear,_

_The total of strife, and the trouble and care,_

_Then put them in columns and leave them right there,_

_The peace of Christmas day._

_The branch that bears the bright holly,_

_The dove that rests in yonder tree,_

_The light that shines for all to see,_

_The peace of Christmas day. **[3]**_

 

          "That on one of those CDs, too?" JD asked Vin.

          "Uh, no, not exactly."

          "I don't recognize that one, either," Nathan said.  "But it's real pretty."

          "Yes, it was.  Where is it from?" Ezra asked.

          "Think I'll take the Fifth on that."

          "Aw, come on, Vin, it can't be _that_ bad," Buck cajoled.

          "He's right," Chris said, then added, "You might as well tell us.  JD can jump on the computer and find out if you don't…"

          Vin sighed heavily, but he'd known he was going to be in for this when he went for the guitar.  "All right, I'll tell y', but on one condition."

          "And what's that?" Buck asked, winking at JD.

          "That y' never mention it again."  When all their heads had nodded, he explained.  "The last Christmas I had with m' grandpa, we went t' visit a friend 'a his and she had three grandkids all 'bout my age.  They had this new Christmas album, and they were playin' it over and over again.  That song was one of the ones on it.  I play guitar by ear so I guess I just kinda picked it up," he concluded with a self-conscious shrug.

          "What album was it?" JD asked him.  "Maybe we can get a CD copy to play at the office.  Be nice to have some new songs."

          Vin cringed and sighed again, louder this time, his blush getting darker.  "We don't need a copy of this one, JD."

          "Why not?  I liked that one, too.  That the only good one on the record?  Which one was it?" Buck asked, getting a little frustrated.

          "John Denver and the Muppets," Vin muttered.

          "The what?  The _Muppets?_ " Nathan asked, breaking into a huge smile.

          "No comments, remember?" Tanner countered, glaring at the men.

          The others all laughed, but they didn't tease him any further.  They would have plenty of chances for that later – _after_ they had found a copy of the CD.

          JD launched them into a rousing rendition of Rudolph and, when they finished, Vin cleared his throat to catch their attention.  Six pairs of eyes turned to stare affectionately at him and he blushed slightly.

          "Have another song I'd like t' do.  Don't know if any of ya know it…  I heard when I was in the Army… but I heard it first on that Muppet record," he added softly.

          The others all smiled.

          "What is it called?" Josiah asked him.

          " _When the River Meets the Sea_."

          "I think that's a spiritual, actually, not a Christmas carol," Josiah told him.  "But go ahead, brother," he encouraged softly, seeing the younger man hesitate.  "It still speaks to the season."

          After the first few words, the hesitancy dropped away and Vin entered the song, voice and guitar growing stronger.

 

_When the mountain touches the valley,_

_All the clouds are taught t' fly,_

_As our souls will leave this land most peacefully._

_Though our minds be filled with questions,_

_In our hearts we'll understand,_

_When the river meets the sea._

_Like a flower that has blossomed,_

_In the dry an' barren sand,_

_We are born an' born again most gracefully._

_Thus the winds of time will take us,_

_With a sure and steady hand,_

_Where the river meets the sea._

_Patience, m' brothers, and patience, m' friends._

_In that sweet and final hour_

_Truth and justice will be done._

_Like a baby when it is sleepin',_

_In its lovin' mother's arms,_

_What a newborn baby dreams is a mystery._

_But his life will find a purpose,_

_And in time he'll understand_

_When the river meets the sea,_

_When the river meets, the almighty sea. **[4]**_

 

          When he finished, he let the last chord die away before looking up again.  Chris leaned forward, patting him on the shoulder.  "Thank you."

          Vin smiled and nodded, dipping his head.  "Ain't nothin'."

          Josiah picked up with _Silent Night_ and this time Vin joined in with the rest of them.

          Later, when their voices were rough from overuse, Josiah set the autoharp back into its case, then stood and walked over to the tree.  Bending down, he pulled out a bright red bag that was full of individually-wrapped gifts and walked back to the others.  He handed out one present to each of his friends.

          The men tore into their gifts, finding small but meaningful things that they had all desired sometime over the course of the past year.  They all thanked the former priest, and then the guests stood, said their good-nights and headed home, knowing that they would be meeting back at the ranch again in the morning to watch the football games, open more presents, enjoy more good food, and each others' company.  Rain, Nettie and Casey would also be joining them, and Mary, Billy, and Orin and his wife planned to drop by as well.

          Chris, Josiah, and Vin were the only ones left when Tanner finally looked up from the small box he held, blue eyes swimming with tears.  "J'siah," he breathed, "how'd–"

          The big man nodded to Larabee, letting him know the gift had really come from Chris, then left, flashing a grin back at Larabee as he did.

          Vin was on his feet again when the blond got back to the living room.  "Hey, you're not going anywhere," he reminded the sniper.

          "Chris, this necklace–"

          "Just enjoy it, Vin," the blond said softly.  "I'll tell you how I got it tomorrow, but right now you look exhausted.  Go get some sleep."

          Vin nodded numbly and limped off to the guest room, the gift clutched tightly in his fist.  Chris watched him go, humbled by the depth of the gratitude he had seen in the man's eyes.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Larabee sighed, rolled over, and looked at the digital clock.  He shook his head.  It was just after midnight.  He lay there for a moment, wondering if he'd really heard sleigh bells outside, then shook his head and snorted at his imagination.  The only sound that reached him now was that of someone moving around in the living room.

          Rising, Chris pulled on his sweats before going down to see why Vin was having trouble sleeping.

          He found the man seated on the sofa, his gaze searching the dying orange embers, his fist still curled tightly shut.  "You know, Santa won't stop if he sees you're still up," he said softly.

          Vin's head turned.  "Gave up on Santa Claus long time ago…"  He paused a moment, then added softly, "…when he wouldn't bring m' mama back."

          The honest reply caught Larabee unprepared.  "How old were you, Vin, when she died?"

          "Just turned five a few months before, but that was a long, long time ago.  It's hard t' remember what she looked like now, but I can still remember what her voice sounded like.  She had a pretty singin' voice."

          "What happened after she died?" Chris asked him, dropping down on the other corner of the couch.

          "Went t' live with m' grandpa – her daddy."

          "But he died, too?"

          "Yep, just b'fore Christmas when I was eleven.  Both of 'em, right before Christmas."

          "Damn, that had to be hard," Chris said.  "But you have family again now, you do know that, don't you?" he asked, turning the conversation back to what he hoped was something safe.

          "Yeah, I know…  An' it means more t' me than I can put into words."

          Vin looked down at his hand, his fingers uncurling.  He stared at the gift for a moment and then carefully held up the small, gold heart locket, letting it dangle from its thin gold chain.  The locket was open, and inside was a tiny picture of a smiling, toothless infant on one side, and a small boy with the same smile on the other.

          "Chris, how'd you get this?" he whispered, his throat too tight to speak any louder.

          Larabee arched an eyebrow at the man.  "What makes you–?"

          "Chris, please."

          The blond sighed and nodded.  This wasn't something to be joked about.  "You remember that trip I made to Amarillo a couple of weeks ago, to talk to Kevin Reynolds?"

          "Yeah?"

          Chris nodded.  "While I was there, I rented a car and I drove over to Clayton, New Mexico."

          Tanner's blue eyes rounded with surprise.  "Why?" he asked.  "Why'd y' go t' the little town where I was raised?"

          Larabee leaned back and stared into the dying fire.  "I don't know," he said honestly.  "I guess I just wanted to see where you came from.  Your file didn't tell me much, and you never really talked about your past…"

          "Hell, Chris, I don't even remember the place.  I was born in Dalhart, Texas, but then we moved to Clayton somewhere along the way.  After Mama died I went up to Boise City, in Oklahoma, to live with Grandpa, but he took me back t' Dalhart after a couple of years.  I ended up down in Amarillo after he died.  But that still don't tell me how y' got this."

          Chris nodded and said, "I was walking around Clayton, just getting the feel of the place…  There was a pawn shop and I saw some old coins in the window.  I went in to see what else they might have.  The man who owns the place was real friendly.  He was cleaning some jewelry while we were talking about the coins.  That locket caught my eye because Sarah had one similar to it.  She kept Adam's baby pictures in it, too.  I opened it and saw the pictures… and I knew it was you."

          "Y' couldn't know this was me.  Don't look nothing like me."

          "Same smile," Chris replied simply, and it was true.

          "Come on, Chris, how'd y' know it was m' mother's?"

          "I'm telling you the truth.  I saw the pictures and knew it was you.  Who else would've been carrying around your baby pictures in a gold heart locket?"

          Vin snorted and dipped his head.  "Okay, good point."

          "I thought she'd want you to have it, so I bought it.  I think she'd want you to have something else, too."  Chris pushed to his feet and walked over to the mantle where an envelope sat.  He handed it to Vin.

          "What's this?" he asked Chris.

          "Open it."

          "Chris–"

          "Just do it."

          Vin slipped his finger under the corner of the flap and pulled it open.  Inside he found three small black and white pictures of his mother when she was younger, probably no more than fifteen or sixteen.  "How–?" he rasped, his fingers running lightly over the images like he was touching her for the first time in years.

          "The pawn shop owner went to school with your mother," he explained.  "After I explained why I wanted the necklace, who I thought it had belonged to, he disappeared into the back and came back with those pictures; said he'd had a terrible crush on her when they were in school, but then she'd dropped out and disappeared.  The next time he saw her, she had a young son and she needed money…"

          "She pawned the necklace?" Vin asked, surprised and a little hurt.

          Chris nodded.  "He told me it wasn't really worth anything, but he took it anyway because he knew she needed the money… to take her son to the doctor, and to give him a little Christmas."

          Vin bowed his head.  "We were both real sick that last Christmas…  Doctor thought it might be pneumonia…  Mine was, but her's wasn't.  I remember she bought me a little plastic horse, a bay, with a cowboy that fit on its back…  And we had ham for Christmas supper…  It was best meal I can remember eatin'."

          "I'll bet," Larabee said softly.

          Vin lifted his head, meeting Larabee's eyes.  "Thank you, Chris.  This means more t' me than I can say.  It was getting so it was hard to remember what she looked like…"  He stopped, unable to continue.

          "You don't have to say anything, Vin.  I'm just glad I was there to see it."

          Vin nodded and cleared his throat.  "My grandpa told me once that every mountain has a lesson t' teach us, if we're willing t' listen.  I listened up there, Chris.  I listened, an' I learned."

          "And what was the lesson?" Larabee asked.

          "Acceptance… healin' of a sort…"  His voice dropped.  "I have a family again, and I can't run from that…  Can't be so afraid of losin' it, that I don't let myself have it…  That make any sense?"

          "Yes," Chris said respectfully, aware of the rare vulnerability Vin was showing.

          "Y' lost so much…  I can't imagine," he replied softly.  "Sometimes we want things t' be perfect, but they can't be… and then y' realize that maybe they are, in their own way…  And y' don't have to be so afraid if y' just accept that things are the way they are…"

          "What are you afraid of, Vin?"

          "Ain't we all?"

          "That's not what I asked."

          "Guess I was afraid I wasn't going to be the man y'all needed me t' be… that I might let y'all down.  I had some things I needed t' face… and t' remember…  Good things, love and friendship, not the loss… not what can't be."

          "Damned hard lesson to learn," Chris said quietly, nodding.  "And now?"

          "Now?  Hell, now I think you're asking too damn many questions for this time of night."

          Chris smiled.  It was a start.  There was still too much about this man he didn't know.  But, little by little, Vin was opening up to him, to all of them.  Maybe, just maybe, the day could come when they would be able to help each other over their nightmares.  He hoped it did, and he knew in some part of his soul that it would.

          "You're a remarkable man, Vin Tanner."

          The sniper shook his head.  "Naw, nothin' special about me."

          "There sure as hell is."  Larabee stood, offering his hand to Vin, who grabbed his forearm instead, allowing Chris to help him to his feet.  "You're my friend."

          Tanner snorted and shook his head, but he tightened his grip for a moment.  Then he let go and took a step back, looking down at the pictures in his hand.  "Wish y' could've met her…  Wish I could've met Sarah and Adam, too."

          "Me, too," Chris replied.  "On both counts, but life isn't just about the past, Vin, it's about the future, too."

          "Can't know what the future will bring," Vin replied.  "Best to appreciate what we have now."

          "Words to live by," Larabee agreed.

          "Merry Christmas, Vin."

          "Merry Christmas, Cowboy."

          And, together, they headed for their beds.  In the hallway they parted, each heading to his room, but the faint sound of sleigh bells echoed out of the night.  They turned in unison, staring at each other in the dim light.

          "Did y' hear that?" Vin whispered, his expression like that of a small boy's.

          "Hear what?" Chris asked, trying to hide his own smile.

          The man's expression returned to its usual stoic mask, but there was still a touch of magic twinkling in his blue eyes.  "Never mind, I must be more tired 'n I realized.  G'night."

          "Good night, Vin.  Sleep well."  Chris watched the man limp into the guest room with a smile on his lips.

          Returning to his own bedroom, Larabee lay down again, wondering just how long Vin would remain awake, listening for eight tiny reindeer landing on the roof, and knew it would probably be as long as he did himself…  He realized then that he was actually looking forward to Christmas morning for the first time since he'd lost his family, and he knew it was because he'd inherited another.

          But, even more importantly, he'd found Vin.

          He turned over, trying to get comfortable, but sleep refused to come.  He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.  Something was bothering him, but he couldn't figure out what it was.  But he felt like he'd missed something earlier.

          _What?_ he wondered.  _Something with Vin…_

          He just wasn't sure.  And a cry from the guest room cut short any other thoughts on the topic.  Throwing back the covers, Chris headed for his friend.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

_But then he was… someplace else…_

_Someplace familiar…_

_Someplace frightening…_

_His foster father, his belt in hand, was coming toward him.  The man's huge hand flew out, striking him, knocking him to the floor.  Then the big man was wading in amongst the other children, but they weren't his foster brother and sisters, they were his friends, but now they were just boys, just like he was – small and helpless when faced with the size and strength of the big man._

_The belt came down with a crack as it was stopped by Chris' back.  The blond boy screamed in pain._

_The belt came down again, harder this time._

_"No!" he screamed at the man, lunging up off the floor and launching himself at him, determined to stop him before he killed Chris.  But he was caught, held away like he was no more than a pup.  Then, shaken and thrown back onto the floor.  The belt landed across his naked ass.  He screamed…_

_His foster father leered down at him.  He reached down to cup himself through the fabric of his pants, and Vin knew one of them would be violated tonight…_

_But then he was… someplace else…_

_Someplace familiar…_

_Someplace frightening…_

_The ranch.  He was out at the ranch, with Chris.  The handsome blond was working out in front of the barn, his shirt off due to the heat of the day.  Vin felt his mouth go dry as he stared at the man.  He stared at the way his muscles moved under his skin…  The way the sweat was trickling down his back, into the crack of his–_

_"Oh, shit," he moaned softly to himself, feeling his cock beginning to swell._

_And then Chris was in his face, calling him ugly names, asking him if he thought he was ever going to fuck him…_

_He pleaded for understanding, but Larabee was livid.  He punched him in the face, knocking him down, stomping on him, like his foster father…_

_Then, Chris pulled his gun and pointed it at him… and slowly pulled the trigger…_

 

          Vin gasped, jerking away from the touch that woke him.  Scrambling away, he collided with the wall hard enough to stun him.

          "Vin!"

          Hands were grabbing him, pulling him over and pushing him back onto the bed.  Panic shot through him and he flailed at his attacker, desperate to escape, but his hands were captured and held.

          "Vin!  It's me!  It's Chris!"

          _Chris?  Oh, God, is Chris here?  Where?  Where am I?_

          "Vin, easy.  Take it easy.  It's okay."

          _Chris?_   But Chris was going to shoot him.  He knew, and he was going to kill him…  "'M sorry…  Didn't mean nothin'…  Never do it again, I swear," he managed to get out, his words tumbling over each other between gasps for breath.

          "Vin, settle down," Larabee said and, a moment later, the light on the nightstand came on.

          Chris stared down at the frightened man, worried and scared himself.  Tanner's eyes were open wide, and he was pulled back against the mattress as far as he could get.  "Vin?"

          The other man's eyes shifted, meeting Larabee's for a moment before darting away.  He glanced around the room.  "Chris?" he softly.  "What's goin' on?"

          "I heard you yell…  When I came in–  You hit the wall.  Are you okay?"

          Vin looked around once more, reassuring himself that he was in the guest room at the ranch.  He huffed out a breath and nodded.  "Yeah, 'm fine."

          Chris reached out, frowning when Tanner flinched away slightly.  "Damn it, Vin, I'm not going to hurt you."

          That caught Tanner's attention and he looked back, meeting his eyes again.

          "I'm not going to hurt you," Chris said again, reaching out to check the side of Vin's head, relieved when he didn't find a lump.  But the gentle examination set Tanner's chin to trembling and, moments later, his eyes filled with unshed tears.  "Vin?"

          Tanner shook his head and pulled away, pushing himself up so he could sit in the bed.  "I'm fine.  It was just a bad dream.  Guess it hadn't let me go when y' tried to wake me up."

          "You want to tell me about it?" Chris asked, concerned.  Vin was pale, his body shaking like he was cold.  "Was it what happened up on that mountain?"

          The sniper shook his head.

          "What then?"

          "Ain't nothin'," he said thickly, looking away again.

          "Vin, this wasn't 'nothin'.'"

          "Don't remember."

          "Bullshit," Larabee snapped, causing Vin to shy away a little again.  "Vin, please."

          Tanner shook his head.  "Thought I'd put it t' rest," he nearly moaned.  "Thought I's done with it.  Thought family was enough…"

          "Vin–"

          Tanner's head snapped around and he pinned Chris with a penetrating stare that was full of pain and… longing.  "But it ain't enough…  I can't make it go away.  I just can't.  I tried.  I really did, but I can't.  'M sorry.  'M sorry, Chris.  I can't stop it.  I can't…"

          "Stop what, Vin?" Larabee pleaded, but a soft voice in the back of his mind was already whispering the truth to him.  "Tell me what you were dreaming," he said thickly.

          Vin shook his head, his lips disappearing into a thin line.  He looked away once more, his cheeks coloring with shame.

          "Vin, please."

          "Ain't nothin'."

          "Tell me," Larabee barked using his best command voice.

          Tanner jumped slightly, but he shook his head.

          "Damn you, Tanner," the older man growled.  "Tell me what you were dreaming."

          Vin shook his head, but the words came tumbling out before he could call them back.  He told Chris about them all being children, and how they were beaten by his foster father.  He told him about the enemy sniper, and how the team was killed, only to become his old Ranger unit, killed, but they weren't his unit any more, they were the Team.  And he told him about being at the ranch, watching him, about his reaction and the resulting fight.  He told Chris how he pulled his gun and killed him.

          Larabee swallowed hard.  "Christ, Vin, you know that wouldn't happen, don't you?"

          Tanner shook his head even as he said, "Yeah, I guess so."

          "No, Vin, listen to me," Chris replied, reaching out to rest his hand on Tanner's shoulder.  "If that really happened, I'd never hurt you like that, and I sure as hell wouldn't shoot you for it."

          "Y' might," the man managed to force out.  "If y' knew the truth."

          "And what's the truth, Vin?  That's you're… what, gay?  Bi?  That you… care about me?"

          That prompted a painful laugh from the sniper.  "Yeah, something like that."

          "Tell me.  Tell me exactly how it is."

          Vin shook his head, his shoulders pinching at his neck.  "Don't matter."

          "The hell it doesn't," Chris argued.  "Don't you think you owe me the truth?"

          Tanner reacted like he'd been slapped, jerking back and looking at Larabee.  "What d'ya want, Chris?  Y' want t' hear me say I fell in love with ya?  Y' want t' hear that I dream about makin' love t' ya?  Dream about y' fuc– loving me, too.  Don't want to, but I can't make it stop."

          "Why do you want it to stop?" Larabee asked, his voice rough with the emotions that were spinning through his head and his heart.

          "Hurts too much," was the softly spoken reply.

          "Why didn't you tell me?"

          Another snort of laughter and the sniper said, "Thought I'd found a family, didn't want t' loose it fer… sex."

          "You weren't talking about sex, Vin," Chris replied.  "Love and sex are two very different things."

          "Most folks don't see it that way, not when it's two men."

          "Am I 'most folks'?  Is the team?"

          That put a frown on Tanner's face and he ventured a glance at the blond.

          As soon as their eyes met Chris said, "I want you to listen to me, Vin.  I don't care if you're straight, gay or whatever, okay?"

          Tanner nodded.  "But–"

          "And if you have feeling for me, I want to know.  Not because I'm going to kill you, or hurt you, but because…  Because, when somebody loves you, that's the most precious gift they can ever give you.  You hearing me?" he asked, silently praying Vin understood what he was trying to say, because he couldn't seem to find the words he needed.

          Vin nodded again, slower.  He relaxed slightly, accepting that Larabee wasn't going to fly off the handle and hurt him just because he'd fallen in love with him.

          "Never meant for you to know," the sniper said softly.

          "Why?  You honestly think I'd be that much of a bastard?"

          "No!" Vin yelped.  "I just didn't want t' ruin what I had."

          "You didn't trust me."

          "Yes–  No –  I–"  Vin looked as confused as Larabee had ever seen him.  "I don't know," he gasped out.  "I's just so damn scared…"

          "Christ, Vin," he said, moving over so he could pull the man to him, giving him a hug before he leaned back, reached out, and gently gripped Vin's shoulder.  A moment later, he let his hand drift along the top of the man's shouler, stopping at his neck.  He touched Vin's face.

"Chris, please," Vin whispered, shaking his head.

"Please what?"

"You don't have t'–"

"Vin, I want to."

The blue eyes went wide.  It was impossible, he couldn't have heard what he just had, but Larabee's hand kept moving, touching Vin's cheek, his collar bone, the hollow of his throat.

Tanner groaned and closed his eyes, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"Lie down," the blond whispered.

Vin obeyed, his eyes closing for a moment, but not before Larabee saw the terror and the hope in those blue depths.

Chris looked down at the man who had so quickly become his best friend.  Vin knew him better than anyone alive, had saved his life, had been there when he'd needed him, had made him laugh, cry, angry, glad.

Vin was his partner, his best friend, and the brother he had always wanted.

Vin was the one person he knew he could trust, completely and absolutely.  He trusted Vin with his heart and his soul.

He knew he loved this man.  But, was he – could he – fall _in love_ with him?

The blond bent forward, his lips lightly brushing Vin's.

Blue eyes opened, locking on Larabee's green.  He pushed himself up to a seated position again.  And, reaching out, he traced a shaky finger along the blond's jaw line, then leaned in…

Their kiss began gently, each hesitant and unsure.  Vin was stiffer, more frightened.  Chris took the lead, reaching up to cup the back of Vin's head, relaxing into the sensations that were new and exciting.  He felt like he was on a first date, but it also felt… right… good.

Larabee pressed harder and felt Vin's lips part under the assault.

Chris ran the tip of his tongue along the soft skin, slipping it inside where it parried with Vin's.  Tanner groaned as the blond's hand came up to rest lightly on his chest, then slid down along his ribs, drawing Vin into a tight embrace.

They parted, Chris collecting Vin into a tight hug, holding him as he cried.

And Vin finally raised his arms, encircling the blond in an equally tight embrace.  "Chris, please, don't do this if y' don't mean it.  Please.  It's okay.  We can stop now–"

"Vin, I don't believe love between two people is wrong.  Man and woman, man and man, woman and woman, what difference does it really make?  If two people love each other, they want to share – everything, including pleasure.  They get and they give pleasure, to and from each other.  Sometimes that's not sexual, like we were, but it can be, right?  That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Chirs, I'd rather die before I destroy what we have.  You're the most important person in the world t' me, y' gotta know that.  You're my best friend… my brother."

"I know.  And you want to make me feel good, too.  You want to make love to me.  You want me to love you…"

Vin's eyes closed again.  "Jesus, Chris.  Stop."

Larabee pulled back so he could look at Vin.  "And if I want that, too?"

"You don't know what yer sayin'."

"The hell I don't.  I know exactly what I'm saying.  And I'm not ashamed to tell you I'm a little scared.  Making love changes a relationship, Vin.  If you're not willing to commit–"

"I've been committed," he snapped back.  "Ever since I saw you that first time.  I knew then I loved you.  Don't know how, or why, but I did.  And it's only gotten worse over time."

That brought a slight smiled to Chris' lips.  "Hell, Tanner, you make it sound like a disease."

"Feels like one sometimes," Tanner argued, a choked laugh escaping when Larabee smiled and laughed himself.  "Ain't a damn bit funny, Larabee."

"No, I guess it isn't…  Make love to me, Vin… right now, right here."

"I can't."

"Why? It's what you want.  It's what I want."

Tanner shook his head.  "Can't."

Chris reached out, cupping the other man's face and turning it to force him to look at him.  "Now, Vin."

Larabee pulled back and stripped his flannel pajama shirt off, dropping it to the floor.  Vin swallowed hard.  He couldn't not obey…

He reached out, letting his fingertips run along the top of the blond's shoulder, then dipped down his arms and back up again.  Goosebumps marked his path.  Then, taking Chris' face in his hands, he leaned forward and lightly brushed the waiting lips.  He paused, then repeated the move, only harder this time.

Larabee moaned softly.  The roughness of Tanner's stubble was a new sensation, but he found it rather enjoyable.  His lips parted slightly and the tips of their tongues timidly explored each other's.

Vin moaned quietly, as if he was fighting to keep from letting Chris know how much he wanted him.

Chris reached out, drawing Vin closer, letting them both ride out the white-water flow of emotions.  The timidity slowly began to fall away, each man's passion growing stronger.  The kiss became a subtle battle for dominance, both men shifting back and forth between aggressor and passive receiver.

Chris drew them over so they lay sprawled on the bed, their bodies pressed firmly against each other.  The heat emanating from Vin's groin excited him more than he expected.

Larabee came up for air first.  Gulping, his hands roamed over Vin's chest, his fingers beginning to tremble with anticipation.  "Oh, fuck," he gasped when Tanner reached out, running his hand along the top of Chris' thigh.  The hand paused, then moved over his hip and across the top of the waistband of the pajama bottoms Chris wore, finally coming to a stop when it was covering the blond's pulsing cock.  He pressed himself against Vin's hand.

"Y' sure?" Tanner asked in a thick whisper.

"Stop asking and show me."

Tanner chuckled.  It was a deep, bubbling sound that excited the blond even more and he moved, rubbing himself against the man's hand.

Vin reached up, pulling the pants off Larabee's hips, freeing his erection.  Chris reached out and did likewise for his new lover.

With several deft moves the two men were free of their clothing and lying side-by-side, touching, exploring, seducing and giving in to the seduction of the other.

Reaching out, Chris took Vin's hardness in his hand, hefting the length and gaining a familiarity that he had only known privately before.  "Gives a whole new meaning to the saying, 'big guy,'" he whispered and chuckled.

Vin blushed, pressing his face into the hollow of the blond's shoulder and kissing the man's neck.  "Feels s' good," he mumbled.  "Better 'n y' know."  The kisses traveled down over collarbones and chest, back up to Chris' shoulders.

Larabee moaned, controlling the pace of Tanner's kisses and short licks by the tempo he set, rubbing up and down along the other man's shaft.

The arrangement shifted, positions reversing before either man realized it was happening.  Vin set a slower, more relaxed pace, wanting the sensations that rose and fell in him to continue for as long as possible.

Reaching past the demanding erection, Vin gently cupped Chris' balls, kneading them gently.

Larabee moaned in reply, his hips circling with small gyrations.  As Vin continued to work, he trembled, goosebumps rising on his skin.  Closing his eyes, he groaned lowly, giving in to a new pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him with its intensity.

Pressing Chris down onto the bed, Vin shifted to the edge of the bed and set to work with a determined but gentle seduction.  He was in control now, Larabee having given up any pretense of controlling their coupling.  The absolute vulnerability Chris permitted Vin to see moved the sniper more than he could have imagined, and he repaid that openness by wrapping it in as much pleasure as he could give his lover.

But both men knew they were rapidly approaching the end of their endurance.

Sensing the blond's impending climax, Vin let his kisses trail lower, stopping briefly at nipples and hips before he captured the throbbing cockhead in his mouth, dragging a startled gasp, followed by a low, feral moan from the blond.

Nibbling, pulling, and licking along the shaft, Vin knew he was only moments away from living a fantasy that had haunted him since he met Larabee.  That fantasy was made complete when he felt Chris reach out and take Vin's own aching cock, stroking it in time with Tanner's bobbing head.

Their nearly frantic climaxes shook through the two men.  Vin drank in the spent semen, surprised by its slightly sweet taste, while he came on Larabee's bare hip.  They held on to each other, riding out the waves of pleasure until they ebbed into calm satisfaction.

Vin planted a last kiss on the softening cock, watching as it jumped slightly in reply, then shifted around on the bed to lie next to the blond.

Chris reached out, gathering Vin into his arms.  And Vin responded willingly, moving to fit his body along Chris', holding him as well.  After a moment the blond felt the warm sting of a tear as it fell on his shoulder.

"Vin?"

Tanner made no reply beyond gentle fingers that traced over the tanned skin or smoothed a slightly curled tip of hair at the back of Chris' neck.

"Vin, why are you crying?"

"'M sorry," Vin said hoarsely.

With a sudden rush Chris felt very inadequate.  Had he given in only to fail in Vin's eyes?  After all, Vin had done for more for him than he had for Vin.  Had Vin expected more?

Chris hugged the man to him tighter.  Several more tears rolled over his shoulder, tracing a path down his chest.

"Vin, please, I'm sorry.  It'll get better.  I–"

"What?"  Vin pulled back slightly, his moisture-filled eyes locking on Larabee's.

"Vin, this is new to me.  I'm sorry if it wasn't–"

A smile broke across Tanner's face.  "Don't ever think that, Cowboy.  I know it's stupid, but I…"  He trailed off, more tears falling over his cheeks.

"What?  Tell me, please."

"Just thought it was impossible…  It was a dream…  And now… it's real.  God, Chris, it feels so good it hurts."

The blond smiled, then laughed.

"Told y' it was stupid," Vin said, reaching up to wipe at his eyes.

"No, it's not, Vin.  I–"

"Yeah, it is," Tanner whispered.

          "Let me finish.  I was going to say…  Hell, I'm not sure what I was going to say, but I wasn't laughing at you, Vin.  I think that's… one of the nicest things…  Damn it, Tanner, you make it impossible to think, you know that?"  So he did the next best thing, he reached up and cupped the back of the sniper's head, pulling him down so he could kiss him, letting that speak for him.

          Vin's eyes closed and he moaned softly, lost in the love he could feel in that kiss.  And he understood.  Chris hadn't been laughing at him, he was laughing because he was _happy_.  He'd actually been able to make Chris happy.

          They parted and Vin laid his head on Chris' shoulder.  "Guess y' know I love you, too, huh?"

          "Guess I do."

          "Guess that makes this the best damn Christmas I ever had."

          "And it's just the first of many," Larabee promised.

          They finally moved several minutes later, getting up and cleaning themselves off, visiting the bathroom.  Chris led Vin back to the master bedroom.

          They climbed into Chris' bed, Larabee spooning up behind Vin so he could drape his arm over the man and hold him.  "You gonna finally tell me about your past?" he asked softly in the darkness.

          Vin thought for a moment, then replied, "Don't reckon it really matters all that much now, but I'll tell y' if y' want t' hear it."

          "I want to hear it," Chris told him.  "Merry Christmas, Vin."

          "Hell, Larabee, y' ain't seen merry yet.  I was just gettin' started."

          And laughter filled the darkness…

 

 

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[2]  "Christmas Lullaby (I Will Lead You Home)," written by Amy Grant and Chris Eaton, performed by Amy Grant on her Christmas album _A Christmas to Remember_.

[3]  "The Peace Carol," arranged by Bob Beers, performed by John Denver on _John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together_.

[4] "Where the River Meets the Sea" arranged by Bob Beers, performed by John Denver on _John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together_.


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